


Blood Moon

by Sp0iler_Alert



Category: Hermitcraft
Genre: Blaze Tango, Gen, Mentions of Blood, Shapeshifter Xisuma, Vampire Mumbo, Void Zedaph, Zombie.... Cleo, mild violence, nothing gory described in any great detail, very minor body horror, werewolf ren, wither impulse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp0iler_Alert/pseuds/Sp0iler_Alert
Summary: The blood moon brings out the worst in people. Mobs turn to monsters. Friends turn to adversaries. For everyone else, all there is to do is survive.
Comments: 141
Kudos: 108





	1. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything that can go wrong, does go wrong. This first chapter is a little disjointed in places but it'll get better later on, I promise. I'll be putting chapter specific warnings here for all chapters who need them!
> 
> cws// Very mild body horror, mild violence, blood mentions

It was yet another incredibly productive meeting in Pacific. Mumbo and Iskall had been messing around in their meeting room for the best part of half an hour, laughing themselves breathless as they squeaked back and forth on their inflatables, tumbled in and out of the water, and even at one point watched with glee as Scar dropped by to rate their water slide.  
Every time they attempted to settle down, their attention was snatched by some strange going on. Basil had found his way into one of the dingies and was paddling around in circles, or Mumbo had slipped partway through beginning to explain his latest redstone innovation for Pacific, and had ended up head first in the water, scrambling to get upright.  
All the messing around was perfectly fine, though. They both already knew the direction they wanted to take their business, and had countless redstone contraptions and ideas roughed out, either in the Pacific skyscraper itself, or Mumbo’s underground development lab. Discussing them in a meeting was more of a formality than anything else, and both of them relished the opportunity to relax and hang out it afforded them.

The sun hung low in the sky by the time they managed to compose themselves enough to actually discuss their latest projects. Iskall squinted, just able to make out the shadowed form of Mumbo in the shade of one of their palm trees, partially lit by the sunset that hung heavy behind Iskall’s head. The man didn’t have to hide from the sun, Xisuma had long since gone and tweaked some things to make it safe for him, but old habits die hard. Not to mention just how easily he got sunburnt, something Iskall revelled in teasing him about, but it was all in good fun. Difficulty handling the sun was all part and parcel of being a vampire, and needless to say Mumbo was very used to it.

From his spot in the shade, Mumbo was explaining to Iskall his PacifiCo banking system. It was truly ingenious, and Iskall couldn’t begin to imagine the masses of redstone behind it, his excitement to head to Mumbo’s testing facility to check it out growing with each word.

“I had two ideas, one is PacfiCo having a fixed price, and the other is a variable price, so it changes every day, or we can change it ourselves. I just wanted to check with you which you preferred before I started building it, I’ve got both systems planned out already.” Mumbo said, smiling in a slightly nervous manner at Iskall.

“The second one, definitely the second one.” Iskall said with a nod, partially because he thought it sounded cool, and partially because he could see Mumbo’s excitement when he metioned the idea. He couldn’t wait to see it in action. It would be omega.

Iskall was distracted from the conversation by the buzzing of the communicator in his pocket, and he opened it up, squinting at the screen in the reddish light of the newly risen moon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mumbo doing the same.

_BdoubleO100: I can’t sleep?  
BdoubleO100: can anyone else?  
Keralis1: No  
MumboJumbo: Sleeping’s broken?_

Iskall glanced briefly up at Mumbo, who’s face was creased in minor confusion as he stared down at his communicator. The screen was all that lit up his face, as he continued to sit in the shade, despite the fact that moon, in all it’s bloated, crimson glory, had chased the sun from the sky. 

Iskall’s mind caught up with his eyes, and he did a double take. _Crimson?_ There weren’t meant to be blood moons on the server, Xisuma had disabled them seasons ago. But there one was, rising sluggishly behind mumbo, who hadn’t seemed to notice.

Something tugged at Iskall’s mind as he watched it. There had been a reason X had turned them off. Something more than the fact they couldn’t be slept past, but in his surprise and confusion, the exact reason escaped him. He glanced back down at his communicator, quickly reading the few messages that had been sent in the time he was distracted.

_Xisumavoid: Mumbo, where are you?  
MumboJumbo: I’m at pacific. Why, what’s the problem?  
Xisumavoid: Is anyone there with you?  
MumboJumbo: Just Iskall  
MumboJumbo: X, what’s the problem?  
Xisumavoid: Can Iskall see chat?  
Iskall85: yeah  
MumboJumbo: Yeah  
Xisumavoid: Iskall  
Xisumavoid: Run_

Mumbo looked at up him in utter confusion, opening his mouth to speak, but closing it once again when he saw the look in Iskall’s eye. Dread settled in the pit of Iskall’s stomach, making him feel ever so slightly sick, X’s command still ringing in his head, the gravity of the blood moon that sat smugly in the sky above the server sinking in.  
He stood, reluctant to leave but knowing that he must, for both his and Mumbo’s sake. He couldn’t make eye contact with the man, his red eyes so full of abject confusion and worry, as he, too drew himself to his feet.  
“Iskall-” Mumbo began, stepping out from the shade to stand opposite Iskall, cutting himself off as he froze in the bloody light of the moon. His expression shifted ever so slightly, and he turned, fully facing the swollen satellite, his slim, tall frame silhouetted in the gory light. Iskall stepped back, unfurling the green and black plumage of his elytra, but some strange reluctance pulled at him, and despite every rational part of his brain screaming at him to go, he stayed put. 

Mumbo couldn’t have stared up at the moon for more than a second, but it felt like an eternity before he turned back around to face Iskall.  
And when he did he looked so _wrong_. His face too angular. His limbs too long. His eyes too red. Nails had turned to talons, and when he grinned a cold, unsettling smile at Iskall, his mouth was a nest of sharp, needle-like teeth. Had Iskall been able to see Mumbo better, he’d have seen fangs carpeting almost every surface on the inside of Mumbo’s mouth, clusters of teeth lining his throat, cluttering his tongue with needly white horror.

Iskall blanched, adrenaline shooting through his system, but his body froze up, refusing to move. Mumbo began walking towards him, his steps leisurely, his glittering dark red eyes trained on Iskall with deadly intent. Iskall was panicking, his breathing erratic, his limbs shaking, tears pricking at his eyes, threatening to brim over as his friend came to kill him.

Mumbo can’t have been more than a few feet from Iskall, a low hissing noise rasping from his nightmarish throat, when a great tide of barking erupted from beside them, as Basil sprung from where he’d been sitting off to the side, and leapt between Iskall and Mumbo, growling, hackles prickling down his back, tail tucked firmly between his legs. Mumbo tutted, rolling his eyes at the desperate little dog, and began to reach for him with those deadly talons. Basil backed up, now whining more than he growled, crouching low to the ground in fear, until he came up against Iskall’s shaking legs.  
The contact seemed to jog Iskall out of his horrified, frozen state, some kind of protective urge awakening within him and he lurched forwards, scooping Basil up off the ground and leaping from the Pacific building, elytra flaring behind him and rocket going off in his hand. He banked sharply, adjusting his course to take him to the jungle he called his home.

Behind him, the dark shape of Mumbo unfurled it’s leathery, batlike wings as he took to the sky after Iskall, empty, red eyes glowing with malice and deadly intent.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Doc wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of one hand, silently cursing the bubbling, man made lava lake he was in the process of fencing off. The sun was setting in the Valley of Tatooren, and between that and the custom Mustafar landscape, Doc was really overheating. He didn’t know how Ren could stand to work like this, let alone live here, but he was nearly finished with his task, and as soon as he could he planned to go home and jump in the sea to cool off. The bay beneath The Goatmother was very nice this time of day, and on full moons Ren preferred to be left to his own devices. 

In fact, Doc was only still here because Ren had made an offhanded joke about slipping on the sand and falling in the lava once he’d transformed, and since he could prevent it, Doc thought he may as well. Ren was currently in his hut, preparing for the full moon ahead of him, and as Doc moved over to begin putting up the penultimate panel of fence, he glanced at the sun, which had all but disappeared beneath the horizon. His eyes then dragged across to the other side of the valley, where the moon had just begun rising. The whole sky was tinted red, and the crimson hue seemed to extend to the moon as well, but Doc thought very little of it. His vision was somewhat two-tone, able to see infrared alongside visual light in his natural creeper eye, so the reddish tint was not unusual, simply more pronounced than he was used to. He pitched the fencepost, ignoring the short bout of persistent buzzing his communicator had done, and moved to slotting in the pickets between it and the final one. The Lava lake ended bluntly, with a steep cliff face on one side, and he felt content affixing the fence into this cliff. Ren could definitely still fall in, but that that point he’d almost have to be trying. 

The world had fallen into the dark stillness of night by this point, and it was only now the red tint to everything gave him cause for pause, his mismatched eyes turning once again skywards to the blood moon that hung in the sky. He stilled, the crimson glow filling him with a kind of… manic energy that was greatly unwelcome, and he hissed softly to himself, tearing his eyes away. He thought Xisuma had disabled blood moons, it was always a pain to keep away from people whilst they went on.  
His mind listed back to the communicator, and he lowered the half-finished fencing to flip the thing open. The messages on it were still fairly new, and reading them filled him with dread. Not only for Xisuma’s ominous warning, but for the unwelcome reminder of what the blood moon would do to some of his inhuman friends. Mumbo, Cleo, Ren, all of them would be so violent. He hoped that there would be no clean-up work in the morning, and if there was, he did not want to be a part of it. Doc pocketed the communicator and went back to pitching the fence, cursing the coarse blackstone that chafed his knees as he worked. Ren really couldn’t have built a more inhospitable base.

… Oh god, _Ren._

Doc suddenly became aware of the soft sound of paws crunching through loose sand behind him, and he turned with a start to see Ren mere feet away from him, body tucked low, clearly stalking him. His piercing blue eyes were trained on him with uncharacteristic hostility, and his lips were pulled back in anticipation of a snarl, huge, sharp teeth looking almost gory in the red light of the moon. Doc went very still, his back pressed against the unfinished fence, unwilling to move for fear of agitating the werewolf. His eyes couldn’t help but drift to the dagger-like claws that adorned each paw, and he bit back a hiss, the urge to react with violence a little too close to the surface of his psyche for his liking.  
Doc’s heartbeat was loud in his ears as Ren stared him down, brown tail twitching, but otherwise making no movement. He couldn’t help but wonder what he was waiting for. 

After a painful minute of staring and waiting, without so much of a twitch as warning, Ren pounced, becoming a wild flurry of teeth and claws and death in and instant. All Doc could do was throw up his prosthetic arm in defence, so that at the very least Ren wouldn’t damage something he couldn’t fix. The impact threw him backwards, breaking through the newly constructed fence with a painful crack, the full force of Ren’s leap coming down on Doc’s chest, as Ren sank his teeth deep into Doc’s prosthetic arm with a sickening crunch of metal. He then began to swing his head from side to side in wild arcs, Claws gouging scratches in Doc’s chest and shoulders, irrespective as to whether it was skin or metal as he fought to keep his body relatively stable. There was nothing Doc could do against the attack, as he hissed and yelled and bore his teeth. Had he been able to explode, he would’ve, but he’d lost the ability to do that alongside his arm and face many years ago.

With a final, grating, painful metal groan, the joint that connected the arm to his shoulder gave way, and Ren was flung to the side by his own weight as the arm was ripped off.  
Doc wasted no time in extracting himself from the remains of the fence, shaking splinters from his arm and stumbling to his feet. Adrenaline masked pain as he threw his elytra open and took to the sky, the overlapping metal plates that imitated feathers chafing and clattering all too loudly as he rose, circling for a moment as he watched Ren scatter pieces of his arm all over the valley.  
Doc swerved in the air, unsteady and unbalanced, his head getting light as the scratches in his chest began to drip black blood onto the leafy canopy that quickly came up below him as he began to head into the jungle.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cleo and Joe were relaxing beneath a tree, enjoying the quiet peace of the setting sun. It had been a busy day for the both of them, bantering back and fourth as they made some more headway on the Hermit zoo, and so they both felt they deserved the rest. They sat in near silence, Joe’s quiet humming the only sound that broke it, watching contently as the valley that contained the partially built Hermit Zoo was bathed in the last few rays of daylight.  
It was around then that their communicators began to buzz wildly.  
“Huh,” said Joe as he pulled his out, and flipped it open. Cleo leant towards him to try and see the screen,  
“What’s going on in chat?”  
“It looks like sleep’s broken” Joe said with a frown, “And now Xisuma is quizzing Mumbo? That’s strange.”  
He continued to frown down at the communicator, as ominous messages continued to roll in. Cleo had gone very quiet.

_Xisumavoid: Run  
Xisumavoid: Iskall, did you manage to get somewhere safe?  
Xisumavoid: Iskall?  
JoeHillsSays: What’s wrong?  
Xisumavoid: Blood moon_

Joe stood up abruptly, looking up at the sky to see the blood moon he had somehow missed hanging above the horizon. He’d always found it strange that a rock could be so menacing. His attention turned to Cleo, who was still sat against the tree. Her eyes were unfocused, and ever so slightly glazed over, and she sat still and stiff. He sucked a breath in between his teeth, turning away as he equipped his elytra, and pulled out his rockets. He opened and closed the wings a few times, getting used to their weight. He didn’t wear them constantly like a lot of people did, and still flew fairly infrequently, although that had been changing since he’d gotten a free fireworks pass at Tango’s shop.  
“Well, sorry Cle- OH!” He had turned to say goodbye to Cleo, only to find her much closer to him than he had anticipated. He backed up quickly, opening his elytra, and she lurched forwards, lunging for him. Joe backed up more, panic mixing with fear and sadness as she paused to fix him with eyes that brimmed with genuine hate and disdain, before lunging again. Joe tried to step away, but instead of finding more space behind him he was met with a tree. He threw himself to the side, stumbling and staggering slightly as he overbalanced, having to flap the elytra wildly to stay upright, forcing him to stay in the same spot for just a moment too long. 

Cleo saw her opportunity and took it, throwing her rotted, undead form at Joe, hand clawed, dragging too-sharp nails across his arm. He let out a short cry of pain, clamping a hand over the small wound and stumbling away, reluctant to look at it, for fear of what he would see. Had she drawn blood, then he knew it was over. He’d be one of the undead soon.

Joe fumbled for a rocket and launched into the air, landing clumsily in the canopy of a tree. Cleo seemed to have lost all interest in perusing him, instead wandering aimlessly in the direction of the zoo. In any other circumstance, this would’ve been a relieving sight, but instead it filled Joe with unequivocal dread. And so, shaking slightly, he turned his gaze to the scratch in his arm.

Four neat little lines of blood greeted him.

Joe exhaled shortly, the despairing breath fading into a vague, disbelieving chuckle as he placed his head in his hands. He’d always known this was a possibility, and a risk he was more than willing to take in his friendship with Cleo, but to have it actually happen, and so suddenly as well- He’d never been fully prepared for this. How could he be, really? How could anyone be prepared to wither away into a mindless killing machine? But there was more to it than that. More than his own dread for himself- his worry for Cleo. He knew she’d be devastated to find out.  
Heaving a heavy sigh, he pulled out his communicator. He was getting ahead of himself.

_Joehillssays: X, you still around?  
Xisumavoid: Yeah  
Joehillssays: I got scratched  
Joehillssays: It drew blood  
Xisumavoid: Oh no  
Xisumavoid: Can you still fly?  
Joehillssays: Yes  
Xisumavoid: Come to my base, I’ll see if I can find any golden apples  
Joehillssays: omw_

Joe rose to his feet shakily, already feeling sick, but his despair dissipating ever so slightly. In his haste to assume the worst, he’d completely forgotten about curing. He knew it was an unreliable process for players, often not working at all, but he had to believe it would, for his own sake.

Casting a final, sad look at the valley and at his friend, Joe took to the sky, the rush of acceleration making his head throb as he headed for Xisuma’s base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of my newest fic! I'm pretty excited about this, I love writing cryptids like this. Anyway! A slightly weird one to begin with, but I needed to set up the story in three different places, and each individual bit was too small to be it's own chapter and I didn't want it to have a three chapter opening, so I did what I could. As I connect the three main plot threads it'll be a lot better.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and see you... whenever I update this next! In the meantime I'm gonna have to brush up on my vampire lore.


	2. Moonrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two plot threads converge and another opens up, no one is having a good time!
> 
> cw// Minor violence, injury/sickness description, Manipulaiton/mind control  
> Honestly, it feels weird to not need a body horror warning for once.

Iskall cradled Basil close to his chest as he shot through the air towards his base. His movements were erratic, desperate, as he tried to shake off his pursuer. Part of him knew it was pointless, Mumbo knew where he was headed, but fear and adrenaline fuelled his instinct to swerve and duck and tumble through the air, and as he hit the jungle he dipped below the canopy, hoping to outmanoeuvre Mumbo in the dense foliage and claustrophobic conditions of the sprawling rainforest. His elytra were built for navigating forests after all, blunt and broad, good for tight turns, but he failed to recognise that Mumbo was just as agile, if not more, on his own wings.

The two swerved between trees, taking tight turns they’d never usually risk, Mumbo getting ever closer, taking the turns ever tighter, until he could practically grab Iskall by the tail feathers.  
Iskall glanced back at his peruser just in time to see a pale, clawed hand reaching for his legs, and in his panic he tucked his wings in and allowed himself to drop, his momentum carrying him out of the trees into the small clearing around his Omega Tree. He pulled Basil in tight to his chest, wrapping his elytra around the two of them, taking the worst of the impact for the terrified dog as they hit the ground hard, skidding to a messy stop at the ground entrance to the tree. Iskall wasted no time in pulling himself to his feet, silently shocked at the fact he hadn’t broken any bones, and sprinted into the tree, up the spiral staircase, and into the Treecave café that housed Benny, slamming the double doors shut behind him and backing up into the corner beside the counter.  
He stood there for a few seconds, shaking and panting, Basil still clutched to his chest, before sliding down the wall into a sitting position, letting Basil worm his way out of his arms and onto the floor.

From his spot behind the counter, Benny was giving Iskall a very worried look. He was in quite the state, hair a mess, covered in scratches and bruises from his crash landing, his loud Hawaiian shirt caked in mud. Basil, unharmed but shaken, came up beside him as the man withdrew into his knees and leaned into him, licking at him in an attempt to comfort him. Benny frowned down at him, and leant over the counter to give him an awkward pat on the shoulder. 

It was one thing to be chased down by a vengeful vampire. It was another when that vampire was your best friend.

Iskall extracted himself from his knees after a few moments, his heart rate going down ever so slightly, but the tiredness in his limbs and fear in his system remained. He absently pet Basil, who had at this point climbed onto his lap, keeping his eye fixed on the doors. He could hear Mumbo moving around in his base, confident, languid footsteps advancing up the stairs. There was no urgency in his movement. He had Iskall cornered and he knew it.

The reddish light that filtered in through the doors was blocked abruptly as Mumbo came to a stop outside them, staring at the three of them though the windows with a calculated, unnerving stare. He drew in a short breath, then began to speak.  
“Iskall, please, let me in. The mobs have gone crazy. You have to help me, it’s not safe out here!”  
his tone was startlingly normal, almost… upset. Notes of what appeared to be genuine fear hung in his voice and struck a chord somewhere in Iskall’s mind. He felt himself begin to stand up, gently encouraging Basil off his lap. The tiredness in his limbs forgotten as he walked slowly to the door, where Mumbo stood, the pain and fear in his eyes unbearable. He had to help him. He had to help his friend. Mumbo, alone and afraid. He had to _let him in._

His hand was hovering over the doorknob when a strong hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him away, causing him to stumble, nearly falling flat on his back. He turned around to see it belonged to Benny, a stern, scared look on his face. He turned back to Mumbo, still silhouetted at the door, watching him intently, waiting to see what would happen. Iskall stalled for a moment, uncertain. Mumbo still looked so afraid, but there was now something else in his expression. Something primal and hateful. Something _hungry._

Iskall slumped visibly as the vampire’s thrall was broken, and the pain and tiredness returned to his body all at once. Benny practically had to catch him, helping to prop him up as he stared up at Mumbo, who had gone from desperate to despising in an instant, his face falling, his lips pulling back into a needley snarl in his annoyance.

Even so, Mumbo relented, stepping away from the door and spreading his great leathery wings as he leapt into flight. Iskall watched as he retreated to one of the upper levels of his base, watching. Waiting. He knew as well as Iskall that he’d have to leave eventually.

“Thanks, Benny.” Iskall mumbled, voice weak, as he retreated back to his spot on the floor. Benny gave him a sympathetic half-smile, before retreating behind his counter, eyes fixed on the dark shape of Mumbo through the door as Iskall sank into a pile on the floor, Basil coming once again to rest on his lap. He opened up his communicator, reading the messages with a heavy heart. Joe had been scratched, he could only assume by Cleo. There was nothing regarding Ren or Zedaph, which he considered a good thing. The two of them could be deadly on nights like this.

He’d just started to loose the painful ache in his shoulders when Benny signalled for his attention, pointing out the door at Mumbo, who had stirred from his position high up in the tree, staring down into the main floor of Iskall’s base, wings outstretched and poised. Iskall frowned, and with a soft sigh he gently lifted Basil off his lap and approached the door, carefully angling his head so he could see the floor of his base. Down there, illuminated in the damned red light of the moon which had by now clambered high in the sky, was a hunched figure. They were panting, cradling their chest, mechanical elytra outstretched behind them. Iskall squinted, his vision still cloudy from tears, just able to make out a metallic glint on their face. It was Doc. He was filled with momentary elation at the prospect of having a friend, another player with him to face this. But the emotion quickly soured into dread as Mumbo lifted into the air, a mere shadow, and sped down towards Doc.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Doc soared sluggishly over the jungle, content to simply glide over the treetops as he pressed his hand to his chest, attempting to stem the flow of blood the best he could. The wounds were not fatal, but much deeper than he was comfortable just leaving unattended. He’d already passed over stress’s base, being slightly delirious from pain and shock and not paying full attention, so he intended to land at Iskall’s and see if he could find something to help there. Last he’d heard, the swede was in the shopping district, but he knew he wouldn’t mind if he borrowed a few things to patch himself up. Desperate times and all that.  
Finally his low-energy flying carried him to the great tree, and he descended in loose spirals, landing as gently as he could before the base’s front entrance. He was shaking, from both exhaustion and adrenaline, and didn’t concern himself with pulling his wings back in as he walked into the silent base. The red moon was higher in the sky, not yet visible through Iskall’s canopy, but casting bloody light down all the same. It reflected off of the central diamond pile, dazzling Doc somewhat if he looked in the wrong direction. He paused before it, pressing on his chest even harder before scanning the base, looking briefly for the storage system but his eyes alighting on something else. The dark shape of a person watching him from high up on Iskall’s spiral staircase. He recognised Mumbo’s batlike elytra as the man spiralled down towards him, concern written into his pale face, and worry sparkling in his red eyes.

“Doc! What happened, are you ok?” he asked, running a clawed hand through his dark hair, like he always did when he was stressed. Multitudes of fangs met as he clenched his jaw worriedly, and he bent down slightly to bring himself level with Doc’s eyes.  
“Had an accident with Ren, that’s all it is.” Doc said, out of breath, not once stopping to consider the strangeness in Mumbo’s appearance, only really registering the worry in his eyes and voice, the other details fizzling into nothing and being replaced with Mumbo as he was used to him. The vampire rested a cold hand on his shoulder, eyes fixed on the weeping scratches on Doc’s chest.  
“Come with me, Iskall should have something we can use to patch you up somewhere.”  
Doc didn’t resist as Mumbo began to lead him through Iskall’s base. In fact, doing anything other than go along with Mumbo’s plan never even occurred to him, the seemingly genuine desire to help being all that tinged his thoughts, even as Mumbo lead him past the storage room and onto the staircase, towards the small room where Iskall was watching in dawning horror as the two came up the stairs.

“He should have some stuff in that room there, I think” Mumbo said, one hand still on Doc’s shoulder, guiding him up the stairs, the other gesturing towards the room Iskall was in.  
“Do you think you can open the door?” he continued, smiling encouragingly at Doc as the man nodded, still pressing his hand into the scratches. The smile soured into a malicious grin as he lifted his head and made eye contact with Iskall, who stepped away from the door with panic in his eye.

Doc grew weaker with each step he took up the stairs. But he hardly noticed, so fixated on Mumbo leading him along that any pain, any aching limbs, any tiredness faded into irrelevancy. Iskall remained out of sight, and Mumbo increased his pace, sinister excitement beginning to build in his eyes.  
“Doc, could you let me in?” Mumbo asked, encouraging Doc forwards with a gentle nudge on his shoulder. Doc did not reply, but mutely took a step forwards, exhaustion he couldn’t feel leaving him sluggish. 

It was at that moment that Iskall burst out of the room with a crash, fully loaded bow gripped tightly in his hands. He swung it around, loosing the arrow at Mumbo before he knew what was happening. The arrow lodged itself in Mumbo’s shoulder with a fleshy thud, and Mumbo yelled, the guttural, inhuman sound shaking Doc from his stupor with a rush of adrenaline. He sprinted for Iskall as the Swede slammed the doors of the room shut again, and without exchanging a word the two of them took to the sky in a crackle of fireworks, spinning dizzyingly through the air and over the half-finished canopy of the tree as fast as their elytra would carry them. Behind them, Mumbo faltered as he grabbed the arrow by the shaft and ripped it out without so much as flinching. He growled in annoyance, watching the two as they sped into the air, making note of the direction they were headed, before spreading his own wings and leaping from the staircase, pulling himself up and after them.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joe was feeling really rather awful by the time Xisuma’s towers were visible on the horizon. He’d avoided the Nether on the principle that if he developed a fever whilst travelling then it was the last place he’d want to be, but he was sorely regretting it now. His whole body ached, freezing cold, his limbs shivering, the cool breeze unbearable on his skin, yet he also dripped with sweat, partially from the exertion of flight, partially from his rapidly worsening fever. But he was nearly there, his bright white elytra dyed red in the light of the blood moon above him. He counted his lucky stars it’s light didn’t seem to have any effect on their admin, despite his inhuman nature. Honestly, whether the blood moon effected you or not seemed to be fairly arbitrary. He knew it didn’t tend to affect mobs beyond making them a little more violently inclined, but even that rule wasn’t set in stone. Something for him to puzzle over whilst his body was busy being racked with the zombie virus, he supposed. At the very least it should give him something to do.

He passed over the gate that marked the entrance to Xisuma’s base, chuckling absently at the beeralis statue that guarded the entrance, and banked towards what seemed to be a storage tower, from which he could just make out the yellow-clad form of X waving at him from the landing bay. He swooped in, landing messily but somehow still keeping his footing.

“Howdy, Xisuma” he said, unable to keep his voice from wavering.  
“Hey Joe, come here, sit down” X said, offering Joe a hand. Joe took it and allowed X to take him to the centre of the room. He stepped into a little dip in the floor, and found himself being dropped down into a small room below the main storage room. It was cozy, filled with the sound of water from what appeared to be a kelp farm just outside of it. He stepped aside to let X drop down after him, and followed X to a corner which had been hastily filled with cushions and blankets. Joe sat down on it, resisting the urge to wrap himself up. He knew it would only make the fever worse.

“Can I see the scratches?” X asked, kneeling before him and tilting his helmeted head to the side.  
“Of course” Joe said, offering up his arm. Xisuma examined it for a moment, his face scrunched into a mask of concern, before pulling off one of his gloves, revealing a pale hand with claws which Joe was very sure usually weren’t there. Perhaps X wasn’t as unaffected by the full moon as he had thought. X touched Joe’s forehead with the back of his hand, and his concerned expression deepened.  
“...I’m going to get you some water, one second.” said X, stepping backwards into the centre of the room, and being launched upwards back into the storage room. Joe couldn’t help but snort. He shifted his position, propping himself up further. His limbs had gone from aching to outright hurting, and he was shaking ever more. His head throbbed, and his eyes seemed to feel dryer and dryer with every blink. He heaved a sigh, running his fingers over the scratches, which had by now scabbed over. This was going to be a long night.

He perked up as his communicator buzzed twice, and he pulled it out, worry mixing with vague happiness at having something to do. The happiness faded the instant he read the new messages.

_Tango was slain by Zedaph  
Impulsesv was slain by Zedaph_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I should clarify Mumbo's vampire powers work based off of friendship rather than seduction or anything, considering how a lot of people view/write vampires. Iskall and Doc just trust and are worried for their friend!  
> At least Joe's in a good spot, he's got pillows galore! Same can't be said for Team ZIT, though...
> 
> Also I couldn't bring myself to hurt Basil, he's fine he's just a bit shaken up. Chilling with Benny in the cafe
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, see you.... whenever the next chapter is ready!


	3. Obscurity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you were all wondering what Team ZIT was up to. Now you find out! 
> 
> Cws// Potential Cosmic horror warning?? Idk if I wrote it well enough for that but hey. Also Body horror maybe, manipulation/mind control, and all the violence and injury ones still apply. It sounds worse than it is I assure you!

Impulse’s evening had been going very well until Zedaph killed him. He, Tango and Zed had been hanging out in the cave of contraptions, playing around with the various machines within. Over the course of the evening, they had been chased by baby zombies, swam around the Combruter, been X-rayed in Zed’s storage X-rayer, eaten by a ravenous man eating plant, and chased by baby zombies again. It was all good fun! Good, dangerous fun. 

And then they’d made the mistake of going outside. 

It had been Tango’s idea initially, he wanted to mess around with Zed’s door in the ceiling, but the moment the thing had opened, they’d all felt it. The red light of the blood moon had washed over them. For Impulse that meant very little. He was a Wither, yes, but that meant ‘potentially dangerous’ was just his every day, and he had gotten very good at ignoring that urge to destroy and hurt. Tango as well, despite being a Blaze, was mostly unaffected. Perhaps the glow in his red eyes got just a little more intense. Perhaps the air around him became a little hotter, embers drifting from his body like little fireflies. 

But it was nothing compared to the change that came over Zedaph.

The moment the blood red moonlight hit Zedaph’s body he froze, his words dying in his throat as his human form melted off him like wax, revealing a great _something_ beneath. It glittered and growled and screamed and howled, silent and deafening, pulsating with a boundless, formless, primal energy that filled Impulse and Tango with a sense of dread neither had ever known before. He had no face, no mouth, no eyes, and yet he gnashed unimaginable amounts of teeth and fixed them both in a frigid, fiery stare. He was utterly unknowable, no words exist to truly describe the hideous, extraordinary embodiment of Void that stood and convulsed and imploded before them, and no words ever will. Even Impulse and Tango struggled to take in what they could see, their gazes unconsciously drifting to look anywhere but Zedaph. 

Impulse could feel something liquid dripping from his eyes and down his face. Were they tears? Or was it blood?

Then Zed took a step towards them. No, step isn’t the right word. There is no right word. He moved forward, yet didn’t move at all, sweeping the two of them up in arms he didn’t have, carrying them with deadly swiftness towards the wall of the cave. Neither of them resisted. Even Impulse, a Wither, somewhat akin to a god among mobs, couldn’t bring himself through the paralysing horror to lift a finger to save himself. After all, what is a god to to the primordial, uncaring maw of The Void?

The two of them smacked into the wall of the cave with a sickening _crack_ , and Impulse’s totem went off in a shower of sparks and a bang that dazzled him, his mind already struggling to comprehend reality practically overwhelmed by the simple fanfare of the totem, hardly noticing the buzz of his communicator in his pocket as Zedaph pulled him away from the wall, before ramming him again. This time the impact produced a fleshy _smack_ , and Impulse, thankfully, died before he could begin to register any pain.

He awoke in his base, his senses still frazzled and discordant in a way that somewhat resembled how it felt to fall out of the world. He sat up, back aching, limbs shaking, and stared at the wall of his base blankly, trying and failing to comprehend what had just happened. Every time he tried to reconcile the… thing Zedaph had become with his normal demeanour and appearance, a shot of adrenaline rushed through his veins and his thoughts ground to a halt, until he quite simply gave up on it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he’d seen the true face, or lack thereof, of his friend before, but the memories had faded into incomprehension. 

Perhaps that was for the best. 

He scooped the communicator out of his pocket to read over the messages he’d missed whilst he and Tango had been in Ze- his friend’s cave. He couldn’t even bring the name to mind without beginning to quake in his boots. The realisation made him guilty, and this guilt mixed into a bitter cocktail with fear and worry as he skimmed the chat.

_Xisumavoid: Tango, Impulse, are you two ok? Are you away from him?  
Tango: yes  
Tango: Impulse  
Tango: what was that._

Impulse’s mind blanked, just for a moment, unsure of what Tango meant. Had he so quickly forgotten their friend’s true nature? He was hardly open about it, but even still, they’d known each other for so long…

_Impulsesv: It was Zedaph?  
Tango: I know that. The feeling. You did feel it, right?_

Impulse paused, his memories of the incident already fuzzy around the edges, fading and flickering. He’d expect Zedaph to be the first thing disappearing, but even the more trivial details were quickly erasing themselves from his mind. How had he died again? Did his totem go off or did he drop it? Did they fight back?

_Impulsesv: I don’t know_

He hated not knowing. Perhaps that was the scariest thing of all. Knowing that Zedaph was a danger to the whole server. Knowing he and Tango had died, but unable to recall it in any meaningful capacity as the details slipped through his fingers like sand.

_Xisuma: If you can travel, come to my base. It would be a good idea for you to be with other people, I think. Safety in numbers.  
Impulsesv: Omw  
Tango: Ok, omw._

Impulse dragged himself out of bed, stumbling the first few steps as he became very suddenly light-headed. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps mortal minds were simply not made to handle what he had just experienced, and it was catching up with him.   
...  
Maybe he’d just laid down too long.

With no intention to go back to the cave any time soon to collect his items, Impulse found himself rooting around in his storage system and ender chest for spare gear. He had plenty, pulling on a slightly battered old elytra and some diamond armour he had lying around. He scrounged up some backup tools as well.   
It was whilst he was collecting some food that Tango swept in with a bang and a cry of pain as the firework he had used to get through Impulse’s door burst into a shower of red sparks. Impulse jumped, skittering out of the way as Tango flailed his fiery elytra, just barely landing on his feet.

“ _Dude-_ Why are you still using those fireworks? I don’t think Etho would mind you switching back, it’s kind of an emergency”   
“Yeaah, well, I... Didn’t think of that.” Tango said, chuckling to hide the mild embarrassment in his voice.  
“You ready to get going?” He continued, keen to move the subject away from his mistake.  
“Yeah, I am” Impulse said, stowing the pork chops in his inventory and pulling out some of his own rockets. He offered them to Tango but the man shook his head, apparently set on blowing himself up.

The two rose into the air, Impulse careful to stay ahead of Tango, and shot out of his base and into the clear night. As he flew, Impulse kept finding his eyes wandering to the moon, beautiful and terrifying. He considered himself very lucky that he was able to keep his composure during blood moons. He didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to wake up with the blood of your friends on your hands.

They swept over the sea, the rhythmic bang and muffled curses from Tango giving Impulse no shortage of entertainment. He didn’t speak, he knew the wind would swallow anything he wanted to say, but every now and then he’d turn around to give Tango friendly, teasing look, and revelled in the indignant glare he would get back.

Soon, the ocean gave way to a sprawling jungle, dotted with towers. The two circled around, looking for any indication of which X wanted them in, but upon seeing nothing obvious they made their way to the gate at the entrance, landing atop the Beeralis that guarded it.  
“I’ll just ask him” Tango said, pulling out his communicator, shaking off some of the specs of burnt paper that clung to his clothes. 

_Tango: X, which tower are you in?  
Xisumavoid: I’m not in the base right now, but go into the storage tower  
Xisumavoid: There’s a drop down in the middle to a room beneath  
Xisumavoid: Stay in there, it should be the safest place  
Impulsesv: Ok, on our way_

The two once again took off, checking the insides of each tower as they passed, until Tango, with a triumphant yell, spotted the one Xisuma had been referring to. They flew inside, careful to avoid smashing into the chest monster within.  
“X has got quite the mess in here” Tango observed, kneeling down to poke around inside the nearest few shulkers, “Look at this” he said, gesturing at something on the side of the shulker.  
Impulse knelt beside him to see a series of deep scratch marks in the sides of the box, around the lid. He stood up to see there were more in the ground, along the walls, even in the ceiling around the furthest landing bay from them.  
“What oh earth…?” Impulse muttered, his eyes tracing the marks. They all lead out of the tower, and so he approached the centre of the room, cautious, but not excessively so. He stepped into the dip, and let out a small cry of surprise as the block was pulled out from under him and he dropped into the small room below. Tango soon followed, alert from Impulse’s cry, but soon put at ease when he realised the room below was empty.  
Well, nearly empty.

“Howdy Tango, Howdy Impulse,” Came a weak voice from the corner of the room. The two turned to see Joe, collapsed in a pile of cushions and blankets that had been hastily thrown together. He looked awful, pale and clammy, dark bags under each eye and a set of nasty scratches in his arm. They both knew he had been scratched, but even so, seeing him in person was something of a shock. There was a half empty water bottle beside him, and he took a quick swig from it in a movement that seemed to bring him an inordinate amount of pain. He seemed to be feeling at least twice as bad as he looked, and he looked pretty awful. Even so, he put on a brave face and smiled up at the pair.  
“So, how was your encounter with cosmic forces beyond your comprehension?” Joe asked, shifting his position slightly, watching as the two of them moved to sit across the room from them.  
“What? Oh- Zedaph, right” Tango said, his brow furrowed.  
“I… don’t know, actually.” Impulse supplied, crossing his legs as he came to a rest on the floor. He noticed more scratches in the concrete, and he ran his hand over them, letting his fingers shift into dark, skeletal claws for a moment as he traced them. He could feel Joe’s eyes on him from across the room. The man looked to be very aware, despite the illness. He seemed to be inviting them to ask him about the scratches. Perhaps he wanted some form of interaction to keep him grounded to reality. Perhaps he was just bored. Even so, Impulse bit.  
“What happened here anyway? And upstairs, there’s scratch marks everywhere”

“Ah that was Xisuma” Joe said, his mouth pulling into a sort of delirious half smile. “He’s been having some… issues tonight. It looks a lot worse than it really is. Turns out shapeshifting and a blood moon don’t really mix”  
Tango frowned. “So what’s happened to him?”  
“He’s just kind of shapeshifting at random. He rushed off to his brewing… Cathedral because he was becoming a lot spikier than he was comfortable having around anybody. Looked uncomfortable.”  
Impulse winced in sympathy, and nodded.

Somewhere outside, several firework rockets whistled and crackled, but there was no sound of landing on the bay outside, so they dismissed it as just passers by as the three of them settled in together waiting for their admin to return and the night to pass.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Doc and Iskall shot over the jungle, fuelled by adrenaline and survival instinct. Iskall glanced behind him every few seconds, paranoia tugging at his mind. Was that shadow a cloud? Was that leaf kicked up by Mumbo pursuing them? Beside him, Doc powered forwards, eyes fixed on some unknown objective before them, hand still clutching at his wounded chest. The flow of blood had stemmed slightly, but it was still pretty alarming to look at.

Even so, after roughly five minutes of fervent flying and absolutely no sign of Mumbo, the two began to relax ever so slightly, their flight slowing and becoming more sustainable on their tired wings. Iskall still found himself glancing around, but it was less frequent, felt less urgent. They flew out of the jungle, over Mumbo’s base, angling themselves to soar over the Desert and Savannah that contained Xisuma’s huge brewer, and which lead into Keralis’s base. Checking chat as he flew, Iskall knew that there was some sort of gathering in X’s base. He hoped he’d find some safety in numbers, and the two were on their way to join them. He craned his neck to get a glimpse at Xisuma’s towers as they passed over the Cathedral-like building in the desert, course changing ever so slightly to take them more in the direction of Xisuma’s base. 

As they hit the first trees of the jungle that surrounded Xisuma’s base, something dark shot out from below them, tackling Iskall out of the air. Red eyes glittered evilly in a pale, angular face.   
It was Mumbo.

Iskall cried out in shock and fear, flailing his wings and doing his best to hold Mumbo away from him, even as the man’s great claws dug into his shoulders for a better grip. Doc dove after them, cursing under his breath. He swatted at Mumbo, his short, blunt claws nothing but a nuisance to the man, but apparently that was enough as Mumbo whipped around in Doc’s direction, and Iskall used the opportunity to kick him hard in the ribs and throw him off. Iskall and Doc rose into the air in a desperate flurry of rockets, as Mumbo flailed in the air, attempting to recover. Neither of them looked back to see if he succeeded, instead shooting over the jungle and into Keralis’ sprawling city. A figure desperately waving at them out of the window of a great, white skyscraper caught their attention, and they both banked hard into Keralis’ diamond clad office, landing awkwardly. Out of the great bay window that looked out over the city, the three of them could see a dark shape soaring over the harbour, red eyes glowing dimly, scanning every nook and cranny of the base for them. They weren’t well hidden, but despite Iskall’s urge to run and hide, he knew that leaving the room was a terrible idea. In here, they at least had some kind of defence against the vampire.

“Aye aye aye, this is not good!” Keralis said, staring worriedly down at the vampire, before stepping away from the window. “Everyone’s gone crazy, and, and you two are hurt-”, he gestured at Doc “Your whole arm is just, gone!” Keralis started rooting around in some of the shulker boxes dotted around the room, pausing as he reached one that seemingly had what he was looking for, stepping back with a pair of Enchanted Golden Apples in his hands.  
“Here, take one, take one!” He said, offering them to the pair. Iskall hesitated, before taking one in a movement that made the new gashes in his shoulders scream in protest. Doc also took one, nodding to Keralis distractedly, unwilling to take his eyes off of Mumbo, who he still watched through the window.

Iskall took a bite of the fruit, instantly feeling the regeneration effect come into full swing. The aches in his muscles dulled and died, and the scratch marks in his shoulders began to heal with an excruciating itchiness. But it was better than pain, and he continued to eat until he was left with little more than a golden apple core. Doc had done the same, turning away from the window as he ate, watching the gashes in his chest close up. Those in the cybernetics remained, but it was no big deal.

“Thanks, Keralis” Iskall said, a smile colouring his tone as he turned to face the back of the toom and threw the apple core to the floor, burning it with a single click of his flint and steel. Beside him, Doc added his apple core to the flames.  
“Yeah, thanks man. Real lifesaver, really.”  
Keralis didn’t answer, and a nasty sinking feeling began to brew in the pit of Iskall’s stomach as he extinguished the flames.  
“Keralis?” He asked, half turning around to face the door.  
“Hm, yeah? Sorry I’m just letting Bumbo in” Keralis said, his tone matter of fact enough that what he said completely flew over Iskall’s head.

“No, don’t-” Doc said, rushing past Iskall and grabbing Keralis by the shoulder, pulling him back and away from the entrance from the office that Mumbo now occupied. Mumbo didn’t break eye contact with Keralis, and was mumbling quietly to himself, tilting his head ever so slightly as he attempted to strengthen whatever magic he was using on Keralis.  
“Esscuse me” Keralis said, attempting to extract himself from Doc’s grip, and doing a rather good job of it. Doc tried to adjust his grip without taking his hand off of Keralis, and Iskall made a move to help when suddenly, in a burst of unexpected energy, Keralis twisted out of Doc’s grip entirely, crossed the few steps it took to get to the fence-gate door, and swung it open, gesturing grandly with one hand to invite Mumbo in. 

Mumbo’s expression went from vague to full of a malicious elation, and he made something of a show of crossing the threshold of the room, grinning a smile that was nothing but teeth and bad intentions. Iskall found himself backing up, but the office was small and he tripped into the piano, playing a discordant, despairing note. Mumbo chuckled softly at this, and behind him, suddenly wrenched back to his senses by the noise of the piano, Keralis was panicking, stuck mentally between apologising to and attempting to save his friends, ending up just standing still, frozen in fear and indecision. Doc stood his ground, pulling an axe from his inventory and fixing Mumbo with a glare that was much braver than he really felt.  
“If you take another step closer, I will kill you.” Doc hissed, the harsh noise enough to set any player on edge, if only through the memory of many creeper-induced deaths. Mumbo halted his advance, raising an eyebrow, before throwing his head back and laughing in Doc’s face, the sound high, cruel and uncanny.

“Try! At least you’ll be able to say you went out fighting.” He spat, brandishing his talons with a clatter, and crouched slightly as he began to advance on Doc, dragging deep grooves into Keralis’ desk as he trailed his claws along it. Doc adjusted his stance, brandishing the axe with a determined glint in his eye. He held onto the last thing Mumbo had said, battling his growing apprehension. 

_At least he’d go out fighting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pros of writing Zed Like This: Cool, I get to come up with lore, angst  
> Cons: I HAVE TO WRITE HIM LIKE THIS  
> goodness it's hard,,
> 
> Also uh hey Doc and Iskall continue to have a wonderful night, eh? Don't worry, it only gets worse ;) At least Tango and Impulse get to chill, I guess.


	4. Out of Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Iskall just can't catch a break
> 
> Cws// More violence, more graphic. I am starting to shy away less from blood! So injury description, that should be all for this chapter... Ah yeah, very very mild body horror too

Mumbo made the first move, lunging aggressively at Doc, who skittered back, claws clattering against the diamond floor as Iskall, having come to his senses somewhat, parried Mumbo’s hand with a hearty swing of his axe. The head never connected with Mumbo’s claws, but the impact of the handle was enough the discourage him, and he hissed low, angry. Iskall swung again, forcing Mumbo back, and when Mumbo tried to grab him whilst he was left open after the swing, Doc swiped at him, forcing him away. Mumbo’s hissing turned to growling as he feinted to the left, drawing Iskall’s attack in that direction, before going for Doc who had only enough time to shield the organic portion of his face as talons met metal with a horrific scraping, splintering noise. Doc stumbled back, his cybernetic eye shattered, still glowing faintly, the metal around it scratched up and scuffed.

“Shit!” he yelled, bringing his fingers to his eye, touching the broken glass briefly, before staggering back and behind Iskall to fiddle with some covert controls behind his ear, trying to shut down the broken eye before his fragmented vision gave him too much of a headache, or before Mumbo attacked him again. Iskall shuffled more in front of him, fending Mumbo off best he could, but with just the one of him things became progressively harder, Mumbo’s claws coming closer and closer to ripping Iskall to shreds. Doc was silently cursing himself for making the switches so fiddly and small as he fumbled with them, the shaking of his hands only complicating things. Mumbo laughed as the swipes came closer and closer, as Iskall fumbled and whiffed more swings of his axe.

With a flourish, Mumbo drew back, splaying his hand, as Iskall let a swing carry him just a little too far to the side, take a little too long to recover from. The talons raced for the man’s throat, and Mumbo’s red eyes gleamed in anticipation of bloodshed when suddenly, with a dull, cracking thump, an axe buried itself in Mumbo’s head, splitting his forehead almost in half and causing him to flinch and freeze up, the momentum of his arm causing him to fall over in a messy heap on the floor, cursing under his breath, struggling to get up but having great difficulty coordinating himself, his limbs not responding. Behind him, Keralis stood panting, leaning over Mumbo to pull Iskall and Doc to the other side of the vampire.

“We have to go!” He cried, ferrying them towards the door as Mumbo managed to just barely draw his limbs under him and begin to stand up, wildly off balance but making up for it in bitter rage, sputtering blood from his lips as he growled and hissed, the wild evil in his eyes somehow intensifying with the streams of crimson that spilled down his face.

The three Hermits stumbled out onto the balcony beside Keralis’ office, flaring their wings out as Mumbo began to run, off balance and clutching onto the desks, walls, chairs, pulling himself after them, bat-like elytra splayed out behind him, already poised to give chase, leaving bloody smears on the pristine furnishings of the office. Somewhere in Keralis’ city there was the sound of a firework rocket firing, and a small shape rose into the air, it’s flight unsteady. Keralis, Iskall and Doc shot into the air, flying towards the small figure of Xisuma, who gestured wildly at them, bee wings buzzing behind him, barely able to keep his constantly shifting form in the air as he sprouted claws and spikes and arms seemingly at random. Keralis was holding Doc by the arm, trying to guide him around obstacles as his depth perception was nonexistant, and the three of them drew level with the admin as Mumbo threw himself from the balcony with an angry screech, flailing his wings behind him, barely staying airborne. Iskall reached for his axe, but X raised a hand to stop him as Mumbo’s wings gave out, and he plummeted to the ground, landing on his back with a crack, his body going very still. Yet their communicators didn’t buzz. Perhaps he had gotten by on a sliver of health, or perhaps in this state he could only die to more… traditional methods.

“Leave him, let’s go.” Doc said, panting. “We can’t afford to fight him again if this is a trick.”

“No, let’s go and have a look.” Xisuma said, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. Several pieces of his armour had been removed or broken due to his out of control shapeshifting, but his helmet remained on his head, the visor dark and opaque, something he usually did when working in deserts to keep the glare off of his face. The choice struck Doc as strange, but in the moment he lent it no thought, simply nodding and following X as the four of them descended to the ground. 

He had no reason not to trust the admin, after all. X had always been good to them, and if the Blood Moon were to change him, they would’ve noticed by now.

They landed beside Mumbo, who was splayed in a puddle of blood, his head still weeping, his wings broken, protruding at unnatural angles from his back. He wasn’t breathing, but that wasn’t unusual. X took a few steps towards him and nudged him with his foot. When he didn’t stir, he stepped neatly over him and gestured to Keralis, who was the least weary of the lot.

“Come here, help me pick him up. We can lock him in that half… house of yours.”

Keralis nodded, stepping over to Mumbo and hoisting his limp body up, with a small grunt of exertion. They dragged him the short distance to the house, X opening the door with his foot, and dropping Mumbo inside. Keralis stumbled, having not let go yet.

“Ah- Hey, come on, Shashwam, let’s get him onto a seat at least!”  
X hesitated, before sighing and once again hefting Mumbo up, his shapeshifting having subsided slightly whilst he was occupied. The two dragged him a few feet onto a sofa, and Keralis crudely arranged him into a lying position, careful to make sure his wings didn’t get damaged any more. X crossed his arms as he watched.

“Okay! All done!” Keralis said with a half smile. He had blood splattering his face from attacking mumbo, and yet more staining his clothes from carrying him. Xisuma, too, had smears of blood on his yellow armour, turning it a glistening red in some spots.

“Good,” X said, sounding ever so slightly disaffected by the whole thing. “Is there a back door? We’ll need to block both, so he can’t get out before day.”

“There is, I’ll go and get it.” Keralis paused. “I don’t have any obsidian though,”

X cut him off, a hint of annoyance in his voice, just barely audible.  
“Here, I have some.”  
He placed a few blocks into Keralis’ arms, before making his way out front and shutting the door. Keralis heard the sounds of blocks being placed outside, and he sighed sever so slightly. X was acting off. He hoped that it was just the blood moon, but… He just couldn’t ignore the threads of doubt pulling at the back of his mind at the idea.

Even so, he made his way through the house, dutifully blocking the back entrance, and flying up and around to the front, where Iskall, Doc and Xisuma waited. X was cleaning some of the blood off his armour, and Keralis wished he had that option, the bloodstains in his own clothes uncomfortably warm and sticky. He flared his elytra as he landed beside the little group, and X looked up at him with a little tilt of his head.

“You’ve blocked off all the entrances?”  
“Yep! There’s no way Bumbo is getting out.”

X nodded.  
“Good. We should get back to the tower then. Make sure Joe hasn’t died whilst I wasn’t looking.”

They flew back in uncomfortable silence, Iskall guiding Doc past the worst of the obstacles in their way, but he couldn’t do anything for his landing in the storage tower, where doc crashed unceremoniously into one of the pillars around the centre of the room. He cursed under his breath as he picked himself up, shaking off Keralis’ attempts to help him as Iskall burst out into laugher. Doc didn’t grace him with a response, simply shaking his head and rubbing his shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the impact as X crossed to the middle of the room.

“Down here.” He said simply, stepping into the little dip in the centre of the room and dropping down below with a series of mechanical shunting noises. Iskall dropped down after him, followed closely by Keralis and finally Doc, who landed on unsteady, tired feet and would’ve fallen if it weren’t for Keralis offering him some support. On one side of the room, silhouetted in a doorway that lead out to a farm of some kind, Tango and Impulse were talking to X in low, worried tones. In the corner furthest from them lay Joe Hills, pale and sickly looking, shallow scratches on his arm standing out a stark, inflamed red against the alarming pallor of his skin. He was unconscious, nestled atop blankets and pillows, shivering ever so slightly but visibly sweating. His eyes had dark bags under them, and he seemed… fragile. Doc winced at the sight of him, so uncomfortably sick, and took an unconscious step away, only noticing due to the clack of his own claws against the cold floor.

X stepped into the centre of the room, clearing his throat for their attention,  
“Joe is getting worse. It’s too early to be able to reliably cure him, but I couldn’t if I wanted.” He drew a potion from his inventory, and swirled it in it’s flask. From what little light filtered in from outside, it looked almost red, but Doc was willing to just accept that as a quirk of his vision rather than anything to be worried about. Everything looked red to him.  
“I’ve got more weakness potions then I could ever need, but I haven’t got any golden apples. And I can’t make any either, I used all my gold for bartering earlier.”  
He slipped the potion back into his inventory, and inclined his head Iskall’s way as the man began to speak.  
“I can just go and get some from my gold farm, It’s pretty Ome-” He was cut off by X, who shook his head.  
“The Nether’s impassable. You thought the overworld was bad on a blood moon? You’d die if you tired to go there, and even if you did get there, you’d just die in the farm.”  
Iskall deflated somewhat, but nodded with a resigned expression.  
“I have loads in my Omega Tree,” He offered, slightly less confident, “I could get some from my storage system.”  
X paused for a moment, then nodded.  
“Good. That’ll work, I think. Take Impulse and Tango, go.”

The three seemed slightly taken aback by the abrupt order, but nodded anyway. Joe was getting worse by the minute so some urgency was needed. As the three huddled together in the middle of the room, a few strands of uncertainty tugged at Doc’s mind. He’d never noticed the nether get more impassable during a blood moon, if anything it was a better place to be, as the moon’s light couldn’t reach him there, but he digressed. He hadn’t had to deal with a blood moon for a long time, and perhaps things had changed. X was always on the ball with these things, and as he sat down in the corner of the room, eye fixed on Joe, he was able to chase the residual doubt out of his mind.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iskall, Impulse and Tango soared together over the desert, Iskall lagging behind ever so slightly, tired from a night of almost non-stop action. He was fine with it, he wanted to be out here, helping Joe, but he couldn’t deny he was looking forward to a rest. Impulse and Tango flew beside each other in near silence, beside the odd cry of pain from Tango as his explosive rockets buffeted his body. Impulse kept sneaking him amused looks, and Iskall couldn’t help but feel a sort of hollow loneliness. He missed his friends. He didn’t want Grian out in this dangerous night, and he knew he should feel happy that the man was safe somewhere, but with all that had happened between him and Mumbo, he just wanted a friendly familiar face with him. Not that he didn’t consider Impulse and Tango his friends, but they had a special kind of friendship between each other that he couldn’t help but miss coming from his own close friends.

He was so caught up in his head that he almost slammed face first into one of the branches of his tree, only avoiding it by a hair when Impulse yelled a warning to him. The three of them soared up, entering the base from above, and looking down Iskall’s heart sank at the sight of a large, wolflike figure that stood in the centre of his base, snuffling at the barely visible bloodstains on the floor.

Ren sniffed around his base, before looking up, ears pricked at the sound of fireworks above him. He was hard to see, but Iskall knew all too well just how dangerous he could be. When they had lived in Plastic Fantastic, he’d seen Ren’s wolf form up close many a time. His teeth were intimidating enough when he wasn’t feral and still stained with Doc’s swiftly drying blood. Even so, the three of them descended in a tight spiral, landing atop Iskall’s diamond pile in a small huddle. Ren watched them closely, piercing blue eyes tracking them through the air, lips curling in a growl.

“This is bad.” observed Impulse, his voice tinged with concern, his black eyes already scanning the situation, looking for a solution.  
“You don’t say” Countered Tango, the dry sarcasm masking the fear that lay underneath. Iskall couldn’t blame him, the way Ren paced before them, snarling and flexing his claws was making even him, who was very used to the wolf, uncomfortable. But his familiarity also leant itself to something of a solution.

“Werewolves don’t like fire, do they?” He asked, less to find out the answer, more to lead the others towards his idea.  
“No, but I’m not killing the man!” Tango said, missing the mark ever so slightly. Iskall chuckled and shook his head.  
“I don’t think that’s what Iskall’s getting at, Tango.” Impulse said, voice tinged with humour, and Iskall nodded.  
“Could you use your fire to scare him off, and keep him away while I go to my storage?” He asked, tilting his head at Tango. Tango hesitated, before nodding.  
“Yeah, I could!” He said, mouth drawing into a half smile as his hands burst into flames. Iskall found himself leaning away from him, slightly alarmed, as Impulse laughed.  
“Okay then, let’s go. Impulse, could you help him? Preferably without destroying my base.” Iskall continued, trying to inject a little humour into his voice as he looked up at Impulse, who nodded.  
“I’ll do my best, although my track record isn’t the best…” He responded with an awkward laugh, turning his gaze to the werewolf who prowled around the rim of the hole in Iskall’s floor, watching patiently. Iskall stood up, opening his elytra, preparing his rockets and himself. Beside him, Tango moved down and around the pile, getting in a more optimal spot for firing volleys of fireballs. Impulse stayed where he was, drawing up his magic in preparation, his skin greying and pulling slightly more taught on his body, distorting his features into something much more skeletal than Iskall was used to. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Iskall leapt into the air, letting off a rocket as Tango fired off a volley of fireballs which cut through the air between he and Ren. Ren yowled, faltering, torn between the fear of fire and the want to hunt as Iskall touched down in his storage room. He could hear quick pawsteps behind him as the volley ran out, but Tango was quick to fire off again, the defence fleeting but, hopefully, just enough for him to get in and out.  
He dug through his chests as quickly as he could, fighting the rising panic as Ren drew closer and closer. Where was his gold? He knew he had stacks upon stacks, _where was it?_

Ren finally made it to the storage room as he opened up the final chest he had to search, and he was torn between grabbing the gold within and running for his life. A loud bang from above startled them both, and he heard Ren stumble backwards in shock as Impulse let off another Wither Skull. It was just enough time for him to dig out a few stacks of ingots and take to the wing, Impulse and Tango stopping their volleys to make way for him in the air.

Iskall soared into the air on triumphant wings. One more flap and he’d be home safe, just one more flap-

The triumph died in his chest as Tango let out a sudden cry, his eyes filling with shock and fire leaping to his hands once more. Iskall twisted in the air in time to see a pair of jaws just inches from his legs, and the too-late volley of fireballs shot through the air beside him, one hitting him square on the shoulder as Ren clamped his jaws around Iskall’s legs. He crashed into the diamond pile, his legs exploding in horrific pain as Ren fell unceremoniously down into the cave below the main room, jaws dripping red.

Iskall’s whole body ached, his legs screaming, head spinning, shoulder smouldering and burning. His vision blurred, and he clung to the pile for dear life, terrified to fall and die, or worse.

Tango and Impulse were talking, but he couldn’t understand a word they were saying. The panic and fear in their voices was prominent and clear. It made the heartbeat that rang loud in his ears thump harder as the world slurred around him. A new feeling was trickling in, obscured under layer after layer of pain and horror and shock. Something primal, unusual, alien yet unmistakably animal. 

It made him tremble.

He hardly noticed the two men slipping their hands under his arms and pulling him into the air. He hung like a deadweight, wings dragging and catching the breeze at inopportune times, only hindering their progress more. He didn’t have it in him to move or help or feel bad about it though, because his mind clung to another, much more disturbing thought. 

A werewolf’s bite is contagious. Ren was only so tame, usually, because he was born a werewolf, but a bitten werewolf would get like this every month. The hollow feeling he had felt earlier grew deeper at the thought, and his mind screamed at him as the ferried him over the jungle, repeating an uncomfortable thought that he just couldn’t shake.

_He was going to kill his friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably the most coherent one yet! Everyone's in the same place now so new plot threads and events can flow a bit better. Ofc next chapter will ruin that by immediately starting with a cutaway but ah.,. oh well.
> 
> Also Iskall! Rip!! I feel I should clarify, if you're born a werewolf it's incurable but on full moons you're just a friendly wolf thing, but if you're bitten it can be cured but on full moons you're a feral monster. So you can see why Iskall is freaking out huh?  
> Impulse and Tango did their best but Impulse was still worried about destroying his base and Blazes do have quite the cooldown on their volleys...  
> Also Ren is in cringe wolf jail for werewolf crimes, he can't get out of the hole in the floor.  
> there's more that can be said about things that happen in this chapter but I'll leave that up to you :3


	5. Dramatic Irony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Iskall's having a bad time, Doc's armless, I sure hope nothing else bad happens.
> 
> ...aw shit
> 
> Cws// nothing I can think of! If you need that to change lemmie know :3

Down in the depths of the world, Zed was beginning to come back to himself. He ferried through the void, formless, nothing but will and conscience and guilt, travelling under the world to try and find where his friends had gotten themselves to, desperate to apologise and make sure they weren’t too shaken up. He knew people often had trouble with his appearance, and the image of Impulse, frozen in bitter terror, blood streaming from his eyes was branded into his mind, unshakable. He hoped that coming back up into the world would be fine for him, now that he was prepared for it. He was more than capable of resisting and ignoring the moon, he’d simply been caught off guard. He just had to hope he still remembered how to resist it- but there was no point dwelling on potential bad outcomes. He had his friends to check in on, not at their bases, but probably at X’s if the chat was anything to go by. He’d make sure they were all safe, maybe help protect them if Mumbo and Ren were still an issue. Hell, he could probably give them a nice, safe spot in the void if they neede- _what was that._

He hadn’t seen anything persay. He couldn’t see in any traditional sense like this, he simply was, occupying the whole void, no longer split off and focusing on the human-like appearance he maintained most of the time. Whatever it was wasn’t even anywhere near him, he simply felt something in his void- something that shouldn’t be there. Honestly, nothing should be there aside from him and his pig and the odd dropped item from anyone who was unfortunate enough to fall out of the world. Yet this thing it was moving, ever so slightly. It might’ve even be making noise as well, but with the void absorbing and nullifying all sound, it couldn’t travel. The whole place was soundproof, words lost and swallowed before they could even leave your mouth, but he could still feel the quickly weakening attempts of vocalisation regardless.

It’s utter wrongness was unsettling, even for him, and he changed course, so to speak, heading for the shape. As he drew closer, it’s vague movements began to create form in his mind.   
It was… human shaped. 

That couldn’t be good. 

As his consciousness drew closer, more and more details became clear from it’s weak struggling and desperate attempts to speak, to cry out for help, to do anything. The outlines of armour plating, delicate wings, a helmet with little springy antennae that bobbed up and down with his movements, much too cheerful for his current situation. 

It was Xisuma.

Zedaph pulled the void away from X, giving him more room to breathe as the uneasy feeling in his chest crystallised into vitriolic horror. If Xisuma was down here, then who was on the other end of the communicator? 

Deep down, Zedaph already knew the answer, and if Impulse and Tango had gone to X’s tower as instructed…. 

They were in big trouble. 

He made a note of where Xisuma was, sure to come back to help him but his focus reassigned to getting to his friends and getting them away from the doppelgänger as soon as he could. He shot through the void, sectioning himself off from the main body of it, and surfaced in the middle of Keralis’ city, in the shadow of his main building, the ground around him splattered with blood. He felt the moon once again posing challenge to his resolve to stay himself, to stay Zedaph, yet he still managed to force his form into something he hoped resembled how he normally looked, and began to make his way through the unfamiliar city streets and towards Xisuma’s base, face set in dire determination.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Impulse and Tango drew Iskall up closer to them as they swept into the tower, narrowly avoiding smacking his limp body into the side of the landing bay, and somehow managed to get him onto the ground with minimal buffeting and bruising. Tango was pretty sure the man was conscious, and as he helped slide him into a sitting position, Iskall’s shaky protests confirmed it. He resisted their attempts to move him, wincing and drawing in sharp intakes of breath, seemingly in pain no matter what they did.

“Come on Iskall, hold still, we’re trying to help you man!” Impulse said, trying to keep the worry from his voice, forcing an encouraging tone. Iskall shook his head, and gestured vaguely for the two of them to get off him. Exchanging a look with Impulse, Tango backed away, Impulse following his lead hesitantly. Iskall seemed content to slump awkwardly on the floor, half propped up against a pillar. His breath rattled in his throat, and he seemed to be biting back tears, his frenzied heart pulsing ever more even in his chest as he fought to calm down, fingers which certainly hadn’t been clawed before scratching the pristine floor below him.

“I’ll get X,” Tango said softly to Impulse, who nodded, keeping his eyes on Iskall. Tango crossed to the little dip in the centre of the floor, and dropped down, the impact shooting pain through his tired legs.

“X-!”

“Tango! Did you get the gold?” X cut in, stepping towards him just a little faster than Tango liked. Tango shook his head, then paused, nodding quickly.

“Yeah! But, Xisuma Iskall, he-”

“Where is it? You don’t seem to have it on you”

“Iskall has it- But X he got bit! Ren was there and now Iskall’s all werewolfificated!”

“So he’s a werewolf? Are you going to have to go there and get it again?”

“No- X Iskall could die, he could hurt us, he’s freaking out, and all you care about is gold? What’s gotten into you man? I know Joe is in trouble but now Iskall is too!”

“If you messed up your mission then that’s not my problem Tango, but this – apple and.. Joe, are my problem. Now where is Iskall?” 

The room went very quiet, the hermits, bar Joe, all looking at X with varying amounts of shock in their expressions, and in Doc’s case deep suspicion. Tango hesitated, stepping backwards ever so slightly, suddenly unsettled by X, his bulkiness and height becoming somewhat uncomfortable and intimidating. Seeing the tension in the room, X sighed.

“I’m... sorry, Tango. It’s been a rough night.”

Something about this all wasn’t quite adding up in his mind, and he could see that sentiment reflected in Doc and Keralis’ eyes too. However, Tango was willing to give X the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps without the worry of Joe to deal with he’d be able to get out of this… strange mood of his.

“Iskall’s upstairs. I’m not sure if he could make the drop down here. Ren got his legs.” 

Xisuma nodded. “If you hold the button down, I should be able to carry him in. Impulse will need to bring him to the hole but from there it’s just a matter of lifting him down, isn’t it?”

Tango hesitated, but X was already typing out instructions for Impulse on his communicator, so Tango crossed the room to stand beside the little button that activated the slime block launcher. Doc snuck him a look, full of suspicion and mistrust, and Tango swallowed nervously, returning a similarly worried look. Xisuma had been acting strange all night, and Tango’s worry for him was only growing. 

With a little nod from Xisuma to signal he was ready, Tango pressed the button down, holding it in place as Impulse carefully lowered Iskall into the little room, and X’s arms. X seemed a little unsteady with Iskall’s limp form, but managed to carry him across the room and prop him into a seated position. Iskall had stopped his complaining by this point, but he still looked pained, worryingly pale, and the panic hadn’t faded from his eye, only his speech. As impulse dropped into the room behind him, X slipped Iskall a golden carrot and a quiet instruction to eat it as he crossed the little room with some gold he had slipped out of Iskall’s pocket, pulling a plump, red apple from his inventory once he reached the crafting table. He spent a few moments fiddling with them, before stepping away with a glistening golden apple. X looked ready to cure Joe when Doc pushed himself up from where he was leaning against the wall, expression dire.

“X, man, you’re acting way off. I can’t ignore it. This isn’t because of the blood moon, it does the same to me and I am fine. This isn’t the stressful evening, yours hasn’t been half as bad as anyone else in here. What is wrong with you?”

Xisuma seemed taken aback by this, turning around to fully face Doc, who’s expression remained hard, steadfast, and brimming with suspicion, somewhat magnified by the sorry state he was in, the scratches and scars that laced his body. He was the very picture of a man who was all out of fucks to give. Xisuma’s expression, conversely, was unreadable, hidden behind his shaded visor, but if the clenching of his fists was anything to go by, he was not pleased. His form, relatively stable up to this point, out of the direct moonlight, flickered and wavered, a brief glimpse at something entirely different. Something dangerous. Something red. Then he shook his head, relaxing ever so slightly.

“Doc, Really. Tonight has been bad for all of us. Just let me help Joe.” 

The defence was weak, and doc shook his head, hissing softly.

“I don’t believe you.” 

X faltered, seemingly wanting to say more, but he just ever so slightly.

“Just let me do what I have to do.”

Doc hissed, but didn’t move from his spot on the far side of the room. X was still the one with the potion and the apple. Whatever was really going on could be dealt with after he cured Joe.

Xisuma drew in a short breath, pulling the little, reddish potion from his pocket, and started across the room to where Joe lay prone on the pillow pile, skin taught and pale, deep, dark bags under each eye.

Xisuma had taken only a single step towards Joe, however, when the sickly man’s eyes suddenly shot open. They were unfocused and bloodshot, staring at nothing as he drew himself up, legs shaking as he stumbled forwards, stalling just past the centre of the room, swaying slightly, staring aimlessly straight ahead of him, at Keralis, who shuffled urgently out of his line of sight, ending up beside Doc, who’s already dark expression darkened as he looked at Joe. The creeper unconsciously drew closer to Keralis, hand finding it’s way to his axe.   
X paused, before carefully manoeuvring into the middle of the room, on top of the slime block launcher and behind Joe, who seemed to be relatively benign at the moment, simply standing on the spot and twitching every now and then. The room grew tense and quiet as Xisuma raised the splash potion, his muscles tensing and his breathing quickening in anticipation, and everyone who could found themselves pressing themselves away from the zombie, huddling in corners, preparing to bolt.

Something changed in Xisuma’s body language, a near imperceptible shift from nervous and tense, to excited. Doc found his stomach dropping as he began to move towards X, ready to pry the healing potion from his hands, but he was too late. A soft huff of laughter escaped from Xisuma’s mouth as he threw the potion at at Joe and leaned over, slamming down on the button and activating the slime block launcher he had positioned himself on, already out of the room before the splash potion of healing splattered all over Joe, who let out a pained cry, stumbling forwards, shaking his head, snapped out of the safe state he had been before. Rage caught in his mind and, with Xisuma gone, dispersed onto the inhabitants of the tiny room. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zedaph soared into the air on dark, dripping wings, a black stain on the reddish night sky. His sclera were black, with little purple irises stark against those dripping, dark sockets. Zedaph was vaguely aware of the failures in his form, but his mind was elsewhere- quite literally, monitoring Xisuma where he was curled in the fetal position in the Void. He was so focused on that, in fact, that he almost missed the little yellow figure that shot out from Xisuma’s storage tower, banking around to land on it’s roof, shoulders shaking in muffled laughter. Zed’s attention snapped to him, and he rose higher, hoping to avoid being seen as he circled in the air behind ‘Xisuma’ hoping to see what he was up to. 

The man crouched on the roof, hands going up to his helmet, detaching the bottom half which contained an air filter and that covered his mouth and nose, bringing what looked to be a golden apple up to his lips and taking a bite with serrated teeth as his armour began to change, becoming more angular, rows of red lights illuminating the cracks, the helmet’s visor becoming larger, red LEDs illuminating in what was now clearly a screen, forming downturned eyes, as his whole set of armour lost it’s jolly yellow and black hues, becoming a deep crimson.

Evil X finished up his apple as the last threads of yellow disappeared from his armour, and threw the apple core off the side of the building before reattaching the bottom section of his helmet, the shark toothed mouth hidden once again under armour. He stood up, pausing for a moment, tilting his head to hear the muffled cries that came from within the building, before chuckling once again to himself and stretching out his wings- no longer delicate bee wings, but the black- iridescent plumage of a white faced ibis, beautiful in the same way as an oil spill. He ruffled feathers that caught and reflected every shade of red in the bloody sky, before leaping into flight. Zed fought off the urge to give chase, fighting bitter feelings of betrayal and anger that threatened to break his grasp on himself with reminders that Impulse and Tango- his friends- were in mortal peril, as he swooped down into the main room of the tower, being greeted by deep scratches in the walls and, from below him, the sounds of a confrontation.

Doing one last check to make sure his very appearance wouldn’t kill his friends on the spot, he stepped into the dip in the centre of the room and dropped into the little room below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally EX wasn't going to be in this fic at all, but then I realised that my initial idea was boring and I couldn't take it anywhere, plus people were really sus on X for some reason (It wasn't intentional for the first few chapters lads) so I was like hm... Evil X time!  
> I love this bastard man... I have no idea what line I'm gonna take on writing him but that's future Randy's problem. For now I'm gonna just vibe.  
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	6. Admin Abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone convenes and the action slows down- for now, at least.
> 
> Cws// blood and injury mention, cosmic horror but like less.

Before Joe could begin to attack them, Doc leaped into action, surging forwards and forcing the blunt handle of his axe into Joe’s chest, keeping him just a bit more than an arm’s length away as Impulse and Tango skirted around the outside of the room, Impulse grabbing Iskall under the arms and pulling him into the outer room that contained the kelp farm, ignoring his growled and yelped protests as his injured and bleeding legs were buffeted on the stairs down. He left a worrying red smear, but there was very little they could do as Joe screeched and lunged for Doc, who was visibly struggling to keep him away, his arm shaking with the exertion. Tango approached, hands in flame, but Doc waved him away with a mutter,

“We can’t hurt him, he’s still Joe”

His voice was strained and gruff, between the struggle with Joe and his bitter anger and disappointment at himself. _He could’ve prevented this, he should’ve-_ He flung himself to the side as Joe managed to wrench the axe from his hand, the thing clattering on the floor all too loudly. Joe stumbled, but recovered quickly, wheeling around to once again lunge at Doc, but his path was blocked by a short burst of flames from Tango, who grabbed Doc by the shoulder and pulled him away. Doc resisted at first, unwilling to be forced out of his position fighting off Joe, but upon hearing the dull thump of someone landing up above, he quickly skittered out of the way of the centre of the room, as Joe screeched once again, poised to hurt.   
Doc drew his sword as pistons began to fire from the mechanism, ready to impale ‘Xisuma’ if he dropped down into the room, and he felt Keralis come up beside him, axe ready and poised. From outside the room, Impulse’s footsteps could be heard drawing to one of the entrances to the kelp farm, a smell of rot and burning bone indicating that his magic was drawn up and ready to be used.

However, their preparations were unnecessary, as the figure who dropped In was definitely not the armour-clad doppelgänger. It was… Zedaph? 

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees as Zed arrived, a sudden chill crackling down Doc’s spine, forcing goosebumps to prickle on his skin. Beside him, Keralis visibly shivered, although whether it was the change in temperature or Zedaph’s appearance was hard to gauge. Sharp fangs protruded from Zed’s cheeks where teeth should not be, his arms were just a touch too long, and his shadow cut just a bit too sharp through the softly lit room. His purple eyes glowed with ill-restrained power in dark sockets that dripped what could only be pure void down his face and onto the floor, staining his shirt and pitting the ground with an acidic hiss upon contact. 

Upon seeing him, Joe stumbled back with a snarl, before quickly lunging for him, fingers hooked, poised to drive too-sharp nails into Zed’s flesh, but he missed by a mile as Zed easily sidestepped him, his features pulled into sharp concentration, those glittering eyes never once leaving Joe as he used the newly turned Zombie’s moment of vulnerability to jump him, grabbing at his sickly arms and pulling them behind his back, spinning him around and pinning him to the floor. Joe struggled under his grip, straining to break it, but Zed held him fast, lifting his head to lock eyes with Doc.

“Look away.”

Doc didn’t need to be told twice, clamping his eye shut and turning his face so that his sightless, broken eye was pointed Zed’s way. The others followed suit, and they stood there in silence for a moment, waiting for Zed to be satisfied their vision was suitably diverted. 

Doc was on the brink of opening his eye again to see just what Zed was doing when the temperature in the already cold room dropped dramatically, the air nearly freezing in Doc’s lungs. He bent over double, coughing and spluttering as his ears popped, and he drew close to the point of passing out as his head became light, swaying worryingly on the spot.

Then the moment passed, the air temperature and pressure returning to normal, and Doc caught himself on the wall as his legs threatened to give out beneath him, opening his eye and shaking the looming headache from his mind. Behind him, Keralis, Impulse and Tango looked distinctly worse for wear, The little flames that tended to catch in Tango’s hair when he wasn’t paying attention had been extinguished, the smoke filling the air with a dry, acrid smell. From outside the room, Doc could hear Iskall coughing, the strained sound trailing into a soft growl. 

And before Doc, Zedaph rose from where he had been pinning Joe, the flow of void from his eyes and face thicker than ever, the discrepancies of his form more pronounced. Before him, Joe was unconscious, his face somehow much paler than before, soft threads of blood just starting to ooze from his closed eye sockets. 

“Well, that’s that dealt with.” Tango said, his voice wavering slightly as he looked to his friend, who stepped away from Joe, his expression uncomfortably blank, and his breathing irregular. He shook his head, running too-long, spindly fingers through his long, blonde hair, and drew in a deep breath, collecting and centring himself, before breathing it out in a huff and dropping his hand, his appearance suddenly a lot closer to what they were all used to, only hints of the incomprehensible Void beast he truly was pricking through. Doc was just glad he had less teeth.

“Are you all alright?” Zed asked, taking a measured step towards them, quietly ignoring Impulse’s flinch at the movement.

“No.” Doc growled, too tired to be anything more than blunt about it. Zed chuckled softly, somehow looking both amused and greatly concerned at the same time.

“Oh, well, fair actually.” He said, drawing level with the small group, and poking his head round the entrance to the Kelp farm, looking over at Iskall, who was paling by the minute, mangled legs still raw and bleeding, splayed out in front of him. He was bent double, breathing shallow breaths, and wheezing out breaths that sounded almost like whining. Zed pulled himself back up, into the main room, and gave them an inquisitive glance, silently asking for an explanation.

“Ren got him.” Impulse offered, simply, and Zed nodded, his gaze going back to the injured man.

“How did you get him in here?” Zed asked abruptly, brow furrowing.

“Me and Xisuma lifted him in.” Impulse said, almost sheepishly. “We didn’t know he was gonna go bad on us!”

“Oh! Well, about that,”

“Never a good thing to hear from you” muttered Tango, a hint of humour in his voice. Keralis snorted.

“Um, good news! Xisuma hasn’t inexplicably turned evil! Bad news, that’s because he’s in The Void right now and that wasn’t Xisuma!” Zed continued, pausing to snort softly at Tango’s remark.

“Then who was that?” Keralis asked, voice tinged with distinct worry. 

Zedaph faltered ever so slightly.

“Evil Xisuma.”

Doc growled to himself, frustration rising. 

_Of course. Of course it was. How had he not realised? It was so obvious. He should’ve stopped him whilst he had the chance. Why hadn’t he?_

Doc bit the inside of his mouth, trying to stem his annoyance at himself, and stop the low growling in his throat.

“We should probably get X. You said he was in the void?” Impulse asked, trying to draw attention away from the obviously troubled Doc.

“Yep! Best way to get in and get out with an actual person would probably be through the Bumless Pit… So, we should go to my base?”

Doc nodded, frustration tempering slightly. He’d messed up, but it wasn’t too late to fix his mistake, to help his friends and send EX back to whatever hateful pit he’d crawled out of.

“Ah, what about Joe..?” Keralis piped up, his gaze resting on the prone, still figure on the floor. “Xi- Evil Xisuma said that the window to cure him was quite small? I know we can’t trust him, but still!”

Doc sighed, gritting his teeth.

“We’ll just have to come back after and hope it still works. Worst comes to the worst, we’ll have another Cleo on our hands.” He said, not at all sure in himself. If he was honest, he had no idea what would happen with Joe. He simply wanted to reassure his friends.   
And it seemed to have worked, as Keralis nodded his head, something bordering on a smile tugging at his lips. 

Doc crossed the room, finding his way to Joe and carefully dragging him by the back of the shirt to the pillow pile, trying to arrange him in a relatively comfortable way. His skin was cold and pasty to the touch, with just a little too much give in it, a sensation that made Doc shudder. Behind him, Keralis and team ZIT had gone to tend to Iskall, trying in hushed voices to coax him into eating something, or let them tend to his wounds, or anything, but from the muffled half-formed words and terrified growls coming from the man, they weren’t having much success. Once satisfied with Joe, Doc joined them to see Iskall curled up, knees drawn to his chest, legs still bleeding freely. His eye had an uncharacteristic wild edge to it, and his teeth and nails were unusually sharp. Doc knew, from his many times chatting with Ren, that Iskall would not fully turn yet, as it was simply too early and his body was too fragile. However, apparently that didn’t mean he couldn’t still get close. 

“-We still need to get him out!” Said Tango as Doc drew level with the little group, slightly fanned out around Iskall so as to give him space and not get his blood on their shoes. “Joe would still attack him, and its not like he can run away.”

“But, where would we put him? And- and would he even let us carry him?” Keralis asked, eyes glancing at the sharp looking claws that adorned Iskall’s hands. Doc sighed, slipping between the group and reaching for Iskall, picking him up- despite a noise of shock and a growled, Swedish complaint- and slinging him over his shoulder.

“Let’s just get going. He will be fine, I’ll put him upstairs.”

“Well that’s one way to sort it” Tango said with a snort, stepping back into the central room. The rest followed suit, Doc acutely aware of the concerned glances Impulse and Keralis kept giving Iskall, who seemed to have resigned himself to his fate of being carried slung over Doc’s shoulder. He hung limply, his blood staining Doc’s labcoat even more than it already was. Doc was resistant to getting a new one, wanting to see how much one labcoat could survive, but after this he feared he may have to give in and buy a new one. These bloodstains were not coming out, and he didn’t need any more reminders of tonight on top of his newly acquired scars. Not to mention it would feel… weird, wrong, to wear Iskall’s blood.

The group let Doc go up first, careful to make sure Iskall didn’t hit his head on the way up, and as Doc stowed him in one of the indented rooms in the side of the storage room, reasoning that it would probably warmer in there, the rest of the little group made their way up and out of the room. Stepping back from Iskall, Doc couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied somehow. He was still bleeding, probably cold, and they were just going to... leave him here? They didn’t even have a plan as to how to cure him- although Doc knew exactly who to ask about that, when morning came.  
He hesitated for a moment, then sighed, pulling off his labcoat. If he was going to replace it anyway, he might as well put this one to good use. He wasn’t cold- the thin layer of fur all over his body took care of that.   
In one movement, Doc dropped to his knees, and tore the labcoat in two.

“Um, Doc, what are you doing?” Asked Tango, a confused, incredulous note in his voice.

“I’m trying to stop the bleeding.” Came Doc’s reply, as he took half the tattered coat and began wrapping it around one of Iskall’s legs as tightly as he reasonably could. Iskall hissed in pain, but stayed still, letting him do it.

“Dude, you could’ve asked for some clothes that aren’t being worn!” Said Impulse, humour tugging at his voice. “I have a spare shirt in my ender chest.”

Doc chuckled. “Of course you do. It’s ok, I need a new coat after tonight anyway.” As he spoke, he moved on to the other leg, again wrapping it tightly to stem the flow of blood, before stepping back, putting his hand in his pocket.

“Thanks..” muttered Iskall, voice quiet and weak, as he adjusted his position on the floor. Doc smiled at him, before stepping out of the room and rejoining the group.

“To your cave, then?” Doc asked, turning to Zedaph, who nodded, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Let’s go!”

The five of them lifted into the air, soaring over the jungle in silence, punctuated only by the flapping of wings, the woosh of fireworks, and the gentle clinking of Doc’s elytra as the feather-like slats chafed against each other. The journey went by quickly, as they crossed the ocean and banked past the shopping district and over Impulse’s base, descending on the inconspicuous entrance to Zed’s base in a small flurry of feathers and flapping. Zed went to open the door first, slipping inside, and the rest of them followed suit.

“You’d better not use your doorbell on us!” Tango joked as he stepped through the door, hoping that no one would notice the sudden wave of apprehension that had gripped him now that he was back in the cave with Zedaph. Impulse chuckled at the comment as he went in after Tango.

“If you do, at least only use it on Tango!” Impulse added, his grin widening as Tango whipped around to give him an indignant, over-dramatised glare.

“How dare you!” cried Tango, as Doc ducked through the door. Ahead of him Keralis hissed a laugh, full of mischief. And despite his tiredness from what was undeniably a very busy, stressful night, Doc felt his lips curl into something of a smile at their antics. Zed, too, smiled from where he was waiting across the cave, at the entrance to his Bumless pit. The security measures were off and void clung to the edges, suggesting that the entrance had been used recently.

“I’ll just pop in and grab him, see if you can find some food or something for him to eat, he’ll probably need it.” Zed took a step towards the entrance, then paused. “If you manage to catch one of the chests, there should be some blankets in there.” Doc nodded, and Zed threw them all a smile and thumbs up, before jumping into the hole, dropping down at a slightly alarming speed.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zed allowed all his physicality to melt off him as he dropped out of the world, once again melding into his great singularity. He could feel X’s location easily- the man was moving more now that Zed had eased the void away from him, and he started ferrying X through the void towards his consciousness. There was no reason to go there himself now that he knew where the admin was, after all. The one block entrance to the Bumless pit was all too easy to loose in the vast expanse under the world. 

Once he’d carried Xisuma closer to him, he pulled the void around the man, carrying him up the shaft in a void vesicle, which popped upon reaching the surface. Zed budded himself off from the void too, and emerged from the hole in the bedrock in an unpolished, volatile state, praying that no one was looking down the pit as he did so. He heaved himself into the little dug out area around the actual hole in the bedrock, and arranged himself into an increasingly human shape as he made his way through the little tunnel, practically back to normal by the time he reached his storage system. Void still dripped from his eyes down his face, one of many small failures in his form he really didn’t have the time or reason to fix right now, even if it was a little annoying. 

He emerged from his storage to see X on the floor, armour somewhat corroded and eyes heavy and dark, a blanket draped over his shoulders, and Keralis, Impulse and Tango fussing over him, offering him food, weapons, armour, the works. Behind them, Doc had figured out how to close off the pit, and was double checking he’d done it right- something Zed was thankful for. He really didn’t fancy his chances fishing anyone who slipped and fell out of the void. His eyes lingered for a moment on the cybernetics that traced Doc’s spine, for no reason other than he hadn’t even known they were there, before flickering back to the main body of the group.

“Hey guys!” He called, giving the little group a wave.

“Hey Zed!” Called back Tango, with a sharp toothed smile. Zed returned it, and his eyes fell upon X, who watched him warily through weary eyes. He inclined his head in greeting as Zed approached. 

“I’m sure you’ll all be interested to know that I’ve been trapped down there for the best part of a week” He said, voice weak. “I’m surprised none of you noticed- but I’m not going to get annoyed over it. He’s a sneaky one that Evil X. Took my communicator too, turned off admin privileges for me. Did he do the same for you Tango?” X asked, tilting his head. Tango frowned, and pulled out his communicator, attempting to access the admin panel. His frown deepened when he found he no longer could.

“Yeah, he did.”

X sighed, lifting his hand to drum his fingers against his vambrace, thinking.

“I can’t get myself a new communicator, so could I borrow one of yours to warn the Hermits he’s around?”

“Sure!” Keralis said, offering up his communicator before the others could respond. X smiled, and nodded his thanks, opening up chat.

_Keralis1: this is Xisuma. The one using my communicator is not me! It’s Evil Xisuma. He’s back.  
Keralis1: I haven’t been on the server all week, it’s all been him  
Keralis1: If you’re hiding, stay hidden. I’m dealing with it.  
Xisuma: Hey, X  
Keralis1: yes?  
[EvilXisuma set own gamemode to creative]  
EvilXisuma: :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And on that bombshell_ \-- Sorry I've been waiting several chapters to say that, I have no follow up. Not really sure what else EX would do with admin powers, beyond ban everyone- but that's not half as fun.
> 
> Bit longer than usual, this chapter, but that's a-okay! I hope you enjoyed it- it's a little more relaxed than some of the other chapters.


	7. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your past always catches you in the end.
> 
> No cws needed! :D

The cave was silent, the air too heavy with shock and dread to facilitate any noise. All eyes were fixed on the communicator, the two messages simple, but indicative of so much evil that they couldn’t stop and laugh at the cheesy delivery.

“Oh my goodness” Xisuma breathed, his hands and voice shaking ever so slightly, eyes still fixed on the communicator. He huffed a sigh, and began to stand up, limbs heavy, the action seeming to snap everyone else out of their trance of silence.

“Oh no,” muttered Impulse, his voice beginning to rise in a worried crescendo, “This is bad. This is really really bad!”

“Yeah, you.. you don’t say.” Muttered Tango, his antagonism falling flat as his red eyes flickered around the cave nervously, almost as if he was expecting Evil Xisuma to appear behind them at any moment.

“Well,” Came Doc’s measured voice, “We will just have to find him and stop him somehow.” His mouth twisted into a smile and his eye glinted. “We are GOATs, there is nothing he can do to stop us.”

X wished he could share his optimism. He felt awful even without EX pulling this. He’d been stuck in the void for a week, the very air scalding his lungs, starving and freezing in the inhospitable expanse beneath the world. His eyes fell to Zedaph, who had jumped into the conversation that X was now tuning out. He felt no ill will towards him, he was sure of it. He had just been busy, that was how he hadn’t noticed X down there as he suffered and cried. He had other, better things to do than save him- and by extension the whole server- exposing EX before he could do any real damage.

…

Ok, maybe he did feel a little ill will. But he tried not to dwell on it, tuning out his annoyance for the sake of the server. They would achieve nothing at each other’s throats beyond tearing them out; infighting was the last thing they needed. Swallowing nervously, he stepped into their conversation.

“We have to go and find him.” He said, disregarding whatever was said before, cringing slightly at his own rudeness, hoping the others would let it slide for now. 

“But we don’t know where he is!” Said Keralis, concern raising his voice, “He could be anywhere on the server!”

“True,” X conceded, tilting his head, “But we have to look. I suggest we start in the shopping district, Evil X likes causing chaos and that seems like the natural place to do so.”

“Yup,” Said Tango, looking grim. “If you wanna mess with everyone’s stuff then you mess with the Shopping District.”

Xisuma nodded. “Exactly.” His eyes flickered around the cave for an Ender Chest, landing on one in the central storage system. He walked over, his steps clumsy and tired, and reached in, pulling out and putting on some spare gear. He could feel nine eyes watching him with concern, pressing into his back as he got himself ready. They didn’t think he should be coming with them, that much was clear. And, looking at the sorry state of his armour, the shaking of his limbs, the tiredness that weighed heavy on his mind, he agreed. But he didn’t have a choice. Evil X had to be stopped.

The turned to face the group, giving them what he hoped was an encouraging thumbs up, before walking towards the Iron entrance to the cave, trusting his friends were following by the scuffing of their feet on the stone floor of the cave. He stepped out into the early morning light, the moon, still red and bloody, hanging low in the sky, just flirting with the horizon. He breathed a sigh of relief, the tug on his own magic dull and easy to resist with the moon so close to setting. At least, soon, their friends would return to normal. He didn’t know what had happened in full, but if Doc and the glimpse of the chatlog he’d caught when using Keralis’ communicator were anything to go by, it had been a hard night. 

He paused at the water’s edge, not bothering to pull on a pair of elytra and simply shifting a pair of wings to fly on, their form unrefined, unplanned, and somewhat grotesque. He paused, giving his friends a moment to catch up, before rising into the air, his wings buffeted somewhat by his friends shooting by on rocket powered elytra. 

The six of them soared together over the short stretch of ocean between Zed’s base and the shopping district, spiralling to land in front of Town Hall. X landed neatly, allowing his wings to re-assimilate into the flesh of his back, staring urgently into the shopping district, eyes flickering down the central avenue, alighting on an empty shopping district. It seemed to be perfectly deserted, and X was ready to once again rise into the air for an areal sweep of the area when his thoughts were interrupted by a the deep, distorted sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. He spun around, staring up into the Town Hall where, perched smugly upon the diamond throne, Evil Xisuma looked down on them. The small screen in his visor displayed his usual, angry, expression, and his form looked… uncertain. Flickering in and out of corporeality, a telltale sign that he was, indeed, in creative mode. Xisuma felt something of a chill run down his spine at the sight of his red-clad other. He thought he’d been rid of him a long time ago.

“Hello! Took you all long enough. If I had known you were that unobservant I would’ve built you all a neon sign to point you my way. You idiots clearly needed it.” The insult was weak, but something about the genuine malice behind it made it sting nonetheless. Evil X had always been a nuisance, but never before had he felt like a true threat.

“What are you _doing?_ ” X yelled, unwilling to step closer, his limbs still weak from his time in The Void. Beside him, Doc drew his sword, his face set in a mask of annoyance.

“Why, destroying the server of course!” EX replied, a hint of humour in his voice, almost lost to the distortion from his mask. “It’s the least you lot deserve.” He added, his voice suddenly souring to a bitter growl. X was again struck by how different Evil X was acting. He didn’t think he’d ever heard him genuinely angry. His threats and schemes in the past had always been presented light-heartedly, his proclaimed goal of destruction always second to causing a little bit of chaos for his own entertainment.

“How are you even here? I banned you years ago!” X asked, this time genuinely confused. The air grew heavy, as EX leaned forwards in the throne, his body tense and his angry expression deepening. X drew up his magic, almost subconsciously, and he could tell his friends were doing the same. Keralis, still splattered in Mumbo’s blood, now had his similarly bloody axe in hand, and the air began to smell of rot and smoke as the stenches of Tango and Impulse’s magic mixed.

“That’s right. You banned me three years ago. You know what happens when you’re banned, Xisuma?” Ex stood up, pushing himself off from the seat of the throne and floating in place. X, slightly taken aback by the question, nodded. Of course he knew. 

This seemed to anger EX more, who tensed in the air, a growl in his words as he began, once again, to speak. “You you knew what you were going to subject me to? Trapped in a death loop, starving and freezing to death, falling forever, for _three years_. I was lucky I could claw my way out when you changed seasons!” His voice rose, and he let out an uneasy chuckle. “I was hoping you were just ignorant, so I wouldn’t have to do this. I never wanted the sever destroyed, back in the old worlds. I just wanted to cause a little chaos! A grandiose goal that I knew I couldn’t achieve was the perfect excuse! But you wanted me to hurt when you banned me. You wanted me to _die._ No, not just die! You wanted me to die over, and over, _and over._ ” His voice, filled with malice, rang out in a loud, angry growl, and he rose higher, floating out of the Town Hall to hang above the stairs, fixing them all in an unwavering, artificial stare. X felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t wanted EX to suffer, he just – He didn’t want him in the way anymore! He was threatening his friends, and X knew he’d never do any real harm, but- but--

But that was worse, wasn’t it? Knowing EX was, ultimately, benign, and sentencing him to a fate worse than death anyway.

The sting of the remaining, cloying void on his skin and armour was nothing compared to the pain deep in his chest that Evil Xisuma was _right._

“You still don’t need to destroy everything!” Came Zedaph’s voice from beside him. “Maybe what X did wasn’t fair but that doesn’t mean-”

“Shut up.” Evil X growled, cutting him off. “Don’t forget who let me fall.”

Zedaph’s protests died in his throat, and he swallowed sheepishly. 

“EX, just because Xisuma and Zedaph messed up, doesn’t mean you’ve got to kill us all!” Impulse tried, his tone reasonable, his friendly expression trying to mask the poised Wither magic he had bubbling under his skin. 

“Why not?” Evil X asked, disinterested, opening an admin panel as he spoke.

“Because most of us did nothing wrong? Sure, you can explodificate the server, but what will that achieve?” Tango added, his tone strained.

“Revenge. What hurts you hurts Xisuma.” EX said, typing a command into the panel. The world jittered slightly, and X felt the familiar tug of time being warped, regressing to midnight, the Red Moon getting dragged back up to it’s apex in the quickly darkening sky. X’s form shifted involuntarily under it’s light, and he scrambled to get it back under control.

_[EvilXisuma set time to 00:00]_

“Aye aye aye..” Keralis muttered, eyes turning skyward. “Come on man, Not like this!”

Evil Xisuma scoffed, beginning to type another command. X squinted up at the panel, trying to make out the tiny, backwards writing. His body was wracked by a hit of adrenaline as he realised what EX was doing, his form once again changing, several appendages which weren’t there before emerging and dispersing in a matter of moments.

“No! Stop!” He cried, reaching for his bow, nocking an arrow that he knew would do nothing, releasing it, hoping that somehow it would stop Evil Xisuma from typing in the command. The arrow sailed clean through him, and he laughed, tilting his head Xisuma’s way as he entered the command.

_[Teleported MumboJumbo, ZombieCleo, JoeHillsSays, Renthedog to EvilXisuma]_

Evil Xisuma laughed, lowering himself to sit atop the split in the stairs where the Nether Portal was, watching as the four, newly teleported adversaries dropped down from their spot in the air, disoriented but filled with renewed energy and violence. The look in the assembled Hermit’s eyes was priceless, and he was all but ready to sit back and watch the show. He just had one last thing to do that would be the icing on the cake.

Entering another short command, he summoned himself a command block, placing it beside him as the first sounds of battle commenced below him, a guttural snarl from that werewolf. Ex wanted to watch but, with some effort, forced his attention away and began to tinker with the Command Block. He knew there must be a way to do what he wanted.

He began to string together lines of commands, hoping upon hope that it’d all pan out as planned. He’d been plotting revenge for years, the memory of pain that wracked his whole body with random aches spurring him on, until, finally, he thought he had it. He glanced up, to see the Hermits just managing to fend off the Werewolf and Vampire, who both attacked with immense aggression and gusto. The zombies were idle, but he knew they would join in the fray soon enough. That would be too much for them for sure. Beneath his mask, his mouth twisted into a smile as he produced a button from his creative inventory and affixed it to the command block. Then, taking a deep breath, he pressed it.

He felt the change somewhere deep in his chest, and, from the looks of things, Xisuma felt it too. He smile widened as he became sure that the change he had made would work, and he leant against the command block to watch the show, secure and happy in the knowledge that when these pitiful Hermits inevitably died, they would not be respawning in their beds. No, he’d picked out a much more… voided destination for them.

The Hermits would tear each other apart, and then be condemned to a lifetime of misery in the void. It was the perfect revenge, and yet EX couldn’t shake an empty, regretful feeling that had lodged itself in his chest, as the Hermits jumped to each other’s aid, putting themselves in mortal peril, simply out of the friendship they shared. The smile dropped from his face, and he settled to watch in silence as any hopes of camaraderie with the Hermits he had once had were, once and for all, dashed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this chapter was written over the course of a few days. The second half was written in a wild spur of inspiration this afternoon. As is the way of things...  
> Anyway, EX is out for blood! Can hardly blame him, a death loop is bad at the best of times, when you can escape. Although ah, his solution is a little rash....
> 
> Also is it me or does this chapter feel short? It's about the same as all the others, and yet...


	8. Impossible Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hermit's good luck runs out.
> 
> Cws// Blood, injury description, minor body horror, death (they'll get better... eventually.)

Keralis was not naturally a fighter. He was a builder, a designer, an artist, content to spend his days drawing up blueprints and placing blocks. Sure, he had the odd showdown against mobs, but he could usually gun them down with his bow from thirty blocks away, never once getting anywhere close to harm’s way. He was strong; years of carrying around blocks and gathering resources had seen to that, but he had no idea how to use his strength. The act of heroism he had pulled off earlier, attacking Mumbo, saving his friends, had been a fluke. A combination of circumstance and luck, two things he didn’t have on his side now. 

Ren launched himself at the group the moment he’d shaken off his momentary disorientation from the teleportation, a snarl on his lips. Mumbo had, too, lunged for them, having apparently recovered some health and woken up during his short stay in the Half Mansion. His movements were sloppy, and he still bled visibly, but that didn’t make his claws and teeth any less sharp. Tango and Impulse had rushed to take the brunt of the attacks, the air crackling with strong magic, forcing Ren and Mumbo back, but only for a moment. The Hermits didn’t actually want to _hurt_ their friends, their attacks only coming so close, something Mumbo quickly picked up on. He slipped by on light feet, dripping with his own crimson gore, a grotesque sight under the blood moon. His red eyes bore into Keralis, and he could tell there was nothing but revenge on the vampire’s mind. 

As he raised his axe, Keralis felt something in the world change, subtle, but there. He had no time to consider it, swinging his axe in a wild arc to keep Mumbo away, but from what he could see of Evil Xisuma, sat on the Town Hall steps, he seemed to have a command block beside him. That couldn’t be good. Keralis fended off another attack, catching a glimpse of EX typing on an admin panel, before his attention was once again drawn to Mumbo, his next swipe bringing his claws dangerously close to Keralis’ face. As much as Keralis wanted to keep one eye on what Evil X was up to, it just wasn’t possible. One wrong move and Mumbo would eviscerate him, regardless of the wounds that adorned his body.

Except… the wounds weren’t there any more? Keralis had been sure they were just a moment ago, Mumbo’s head still dripping and oozing, but he seemed fine now. And around him, in the air, little particles flickered in at least five different colours. Potion effects. Keralis started, stumbling backwards and slipping over as Mumbo made another dash for him, strength renewed, and snuck a glance at his communicator, fearing the worst.

_[EvilXisuma applied effects Healing, Regeneration, Strength, Resistance, Fire Resistance for 1000 seconds to Mumbojumbo, Renthedog]_

Oh no. 

Keralis rolled to avoid Mumbo coming in again for an attack, stumbling to his feet and turning to face the man, trying not to dwell on the manic grin that adorned the vampire’s face, raising his axe and swinging desperately to fend him off. The sounds of battle raged around him, threatening to overwhelm him if he didn’t drown it out. Impulse, Tango and Zedaph darting around Ren in his peripheral vision. Doc and Xisuma facing down Cleo and Joe. And him, all alone, dealing with Mumbo. He didn’t think he could do it and maybe his hopelessness showed, emphasising some crack in his defence, as Mumbo’s grin only widened with each attack that came closer to Keralis, laughter trickling out of the vampire’s mouth like clotting blood.

Finally, after a series of clumsy parries and desperate swipes, Mumbo landed a solid hit on Keralis, his claws cleaving through flesh like it was nothing, leaving a set of huge gashes in Keralis’ chest, and knocking him clean on his back. He gasped, his breath coming in uneasy wheezes, and his body shaking as Mumbo advanced on him, red eyes locked with his. He wanted to get up but something was stopping him, his gaze enraptured in Mumbo’s, any rational thought to run intercepted before it could make it’s way to his muscles. Mumbo leant over, picking him up easily by the front of the shirt, opening his nightmarish mouth with a hiss, drawing his lips back to put every single fang on display. The other hand reached around, gabbing Keralis by the hair and pulling his head back, leaving his neck exposed. Keralis knew what came next and adrenaline pulsed through his body, screaming at him to run, and yet he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Mumbo laughed, the sound distorted, and lunged for his throat, poised to tear the whole thing out.

Except, he never got that far. A green, lightly furred hand shot from behind him, grabbing Mumbo by hair that was still slick with blood, yanking him back, forcing him away from Keralis and breaking the eye contact he had so carefully maintained, freeing Keralis from his trance. Keralis took the chance to kick and struggle, breaking Mumbo’s grip, and the vampire wheeled around with a snarl, rounding on Doc with a vengeance. Keralis pulled himself to his feet, hefting his axe, ready to swing, but he was too late as Mumbo struck his claws through Doc’s midsection, grabbing at something, anything inside and tearing it out in an arcing shower of black gore that glittered red in the moonlight. Keralis froze in horror as Mumbo dropped Doc’s limp corpse, a snarl still twisting his lips.

_[Docm77 was slain by Mumbojumbo]_

Mumbo turned to face Keralis once again, his face cleaved nearly in two by his grin, those red eyes glittering with malice. He hefted claws that still dripped with warm blood and advanced on Keralis- too tall, too angular, a beacon of horror. Keralis shook with renewed fear and adrenaline, holding his axe up in front of him, knuckles white as he gripped the handle, feeling splinters press into his fingers, unable to control his breathing. Mumbo paused mid step, before springing at Keralis with renewed fury and twisted joy.

Zedaph didn’t need the splatter of gore on the back of his head or the buzzing of his communicator to know that Doc had died. He could feel the new spawn point, simultaneously throbbing painfully in his chest and miles and miles beneath his feet, out of place and uncomfortable- a cosmic cannula shoved unceremoniously into his arm. It wasn’t helping him focus on the threats all around him. Rendog, who Impulse and Tango had a hold of, wasn’t too much of a problem, and so he spun around, trying to figure out where to divert his attention. Neither Keralis nor Xisuma were in a good spot. Keralis shakily backing away from Mumbo, who advanced slowly, dripping in gore and a smile too wide for his face cutting his cheeks. And just behind them, Xisuma desperately fending off both Joe and Cleo using the blunt ends of his weapons, unwilling to truly hurt them. 

Zed faltered for a moment, before starting towards Keralis, who seemed to be in the most immediate danger. But before he could take more than a few steps an agonized cry cut through the air from behind him, and he whipped around to see Tango stumbling away from Ren, who’s claws glistened with fresh blood, clutching his stomach which had been split open, entrails threatening to burst out. 

“Tango!” Impulse cried, running for his friend, fumbling with a totem, desperately trying to press it into Tango’s hands as the man stood, unbalanced, groaning and bent double in pain. “Come on man, take it!” Impulse said, his voice rising in panic. Zed made for them, Keralis briefly off his mind, all thoughts interrupted by the overwhelming desire to save Tango. And as he sprinted for them, he saw Ren leap for them too, claws outstretched, ready for another attack. He couldn’t get there in time, his form constrained by the need to keep his friends conscious, and he could only scream out a desperate warning.

“IMPULSE! BEHIND YOU!”

Impulse glanced at him with desperate eyes, spinning around and fumbling the totem, which dropped to the ground with a metallic clunk. He had no time to fend the wolf off as he collided with the Wither, digging his claws in and ripping at everything he could reach, stopping only when Impulse’s blood seeped past his claws and onto his paw pads, burning the skin, and withering him, causing him to leap away with a pained yowl. 

But the damage had already been done, as Impulse lay prone on the floor, shredded torso oozing unpleasantly. Behind him, Tango fixed him in horror from pain filled eyes, before, too, dropping to the floor, his legs no longer able to take his weight. 

Zed finally reached them, skidding to a stop and dropping to his knees, trying to stem the mixture of void and tears that flowed freely from his eyes at the sight of his friends. He grabbed for the totem, but had no time to force it into either of their hands as the flow of blood eased, the shaking, suffering forms went still, and he felt his communicator buzz twice.

_[ImpulseSV was slain by Renthedog]  
[Tango was slain by Renthedog]_

Zed lifted himself up onto his haunches, watching the bodies dissolve, leaving behind only swiftly congealing blood on the floor. His shoulders shook, and he bit the inside of his mouth to try and stop the sobs that were building up in his throat, his eyes already clogged with void and tears. Beside him, Ren was crouched, whimpering, his paw blackening, the fur falling out in clumps as the strong wither effect overpowered the potion buffs that Evil Xisuma had inflicted on him. Zed didn’t have the capacity to feel sorry for him, the Wolf’s blood mixing with that of Tango and Impulse, still warm. He stood up, and turned around to see Keralis and X still fending off their adversaries. 

He had to try and keep himself together, for them. Get too overwhelmed and he would kill them all. 

He began to advance on Mumbo, who Keralis was just barely fending off with desperate swipes of his axe, trying to ignore the disorienting awareness of the figures falling down in the void proper, his mind splitting and overlapping, threatening to split off entirely, and he was forced to stop and ground himself, pressing his palms into his eyes, feeling the awareness fade as he centred himself, and the threat of toppling over on unsteady legs ease. He opened his eyes again in time to see Mumbo slash Keralis across the face, and he started, sprinting towards the two, and grabbing at Mumbo just a moment too late, the second swipe landing across Keralis’ legs, severing something important, and releasing a spray of blood.

_[Keralis1 was slain by Mumbojumbo]_

Mumbo rounded on Zedaph, claws poised, but Zedaph was faster, allowing his form to loosen, grabbing the vampire in two strong hands, and throwing him hard to the ground.   
He didn’t like the satisfaction he felt as Mumbo’s head cracked against the ground and he fell unconscious at Zed’s feet. 

He turned his gaze to X, who stumbled backwards to stand beside him, axe still clutched backwards in his hands. Cleo and Joe advanced towards them, their movements jerky and unnatural, full of twitches, each step accompanied by the cracking of bones. Joe reached into what remained of his inventory with too-supple joints, pulling out a sword which he drew across the ground with a grating scrape, his arm bending just a little too far as it dragged behind him. From behind them, up on the stairs, Evil Xisuma shifted, rising to his feet and opening up the admin panel once again, tapping in a command with perhaps more urgency than he wanted to show, glancing down at them every few letters.

“X, if you close your eyes I can deal with this really easily.” Zed said, his voice shaky. X nodded, closing his eyes without a word, and Zed allowed his human guise to drop slightly, just enough that the Zombies would be subjected to something their still-human mind would struggle to comprehend. Somewhere, buried deep within, he felt bad for them. Especially Joe- this was the second time tonight he’d had to do this to him, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and sure enough the two of them seized up and dropped to the ground. As Zed turned back, the angle at which Cleo’s limbs had managed to splay across the ground made him nauseous, and he resisted the urge to go and rearrange them into a more natural position. 

He gave X a nudge and the man opened his eyes, both of their gazes falling on Evil X, who looked at them, the command typed out and ready to go. He paused, before tapping it and editing it, adding more zeroes to whatever parameter he was altering, before hitting enter. 

The Wither effect hit Zedaph like a truck, and he cried out, stumbling and nearly falling as it coursed through his veins and clung to his fingers that were already going numb like icy, burning poison. Beside him, X wavered and collapsed, body curling in on itself as the effect ravaged his already weakened form. EX lifted into the air, a smugness in his body language that filled Zed with an anger which mixed into a potent mixture with the bitter pangs of sadness, pain and failure that grabbed at his mind.

And as he allowed his human form to slip off him like melting wax, the lack of form or substance rendering the wither effect null, Zedaph allowed that potent mixture of emotions to grip him, amplified in effect and scope by the blood moon that still hung high in the sky above them, rearing up as a dark, abominable shape before Evil Xisuma, who floated back and away, hissing in shock as his helmet sparked and fizzed, the cameras in it breaking and burning, filling the air with the stench of smoke and rendering the shapeshifter blind. His form destabilised, listing and shifting, threatening to breach his armour. Zed tried not to falter as he heard the bones crack, and gathered himself up, preparing for confrontation. 

He would never usually resort to blind violence, but under the blood moon, his friend’s gore and offal splattered carelessly across the ground around him, most of them dead or dying, trapped in the void or cowering in bases, he no longer had it in him to care. Evil Xisuma was trying to cripple them by pitting them against each other, having them kill each other, but instead he’d simply removed Zedaph’s reason to hold back his magic. 

That was a big mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is,,, something, to say the least. The situation will stop escalating eventually, but when fighting people who have nothing against killing you, whilst trying not to kill them, there are certain things that are going to happen to you.
> 
> Also Ex... Now you fucked up! You removed his reason to not just go mental and get you! You fucked the fuck up!!  
> I say that as if EX can't fight back. He can. You'll just have to see how things go next chapter ;3
> 
> Also as I'm winding towards the end of the story, (two chapters to go, probably!) I'm getting increasingly nervous about this... I hope it'll wrap up in a satisfying way (I'm not good at endings, anyone who's read my oneshots will know I usually just drop it on a cliffhanger or a bombshell), But I'm also real excited! ok uh yeah hope you enjoyed :3


	9. Bloodshed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ^^See the chapter title ;3 that's about all you need to know going in
> 
> Cws// blood description, body horror, injury description, limb... severance. idk how to phrase that if I'm honest. that should be all but let me know if there's anything else that should be signposted!

It was when the cameras in EX’s helmet blew that it really hit him that he had fucked up. He really hadn’t thought this through, the nature of the reclusive hermit simply slipping his mind while he schemed. It was probably deliberate on Zed’s part, slipping under the radar for his own safety. Or, more likely, the safety of others. 

EX faltered in the air, still very aware that Zedaph was in front of him, the.. creature’s presence unmistakeable, the air around him familiarly oppressive. Evil Xisuma suppressed a shudder at the memories it dredged up, and forced them down with more than a little bit of annoyance. He had to focus if he was to get out of this and still have the means to execute his plan, his form loosening in preparation for an actual right. He had no time to enter commands, and he couldn’t see the panel anyway. Wonderful technology, for sure, but the lack of Braille was incredibly frustrating. Regardless, he would have to resort to more… immediate measures. Which was fine! He was in creative mode! He had the advantage!  
…  
He hoped he did, anyway.

Truth be told, he was scared. Tensed up, form shifting in preparation for an attack he wouldn’t see coming, ready to fight an entity with power and form beyond comprehension. He wasn’t made for this and he knew it, yet more regret tingeing the edges of his psyche. He traced the buttons on the palm of his left glove, before clicking one to shift the LEDs on his helmet’s screen to a slightly angrier expression, hoping it would show some confidence he didn’t have, hoping that-

The force of Zedaph charging into him knocked all the thoughts from his mind and the breath from his lungs. His form, almost liquid, shattered from it’s loosely human shape into a mess of musculature, tendinous and dripping, and as he was slammed hard into the diamond throne he produced limbs tipped with vicious, serrated claws, plunging them into any part of Zedaph he could reach, gritting his teeth against the shards of diamond being driven through his back and the freezing burn of void against his bare flesh, trying to stifle the scream he wanted to let out at once again being exposed to Void. 

Zedaph rolled, trying to throw him off, but he clung on, producing yet more spikes to hook into him. Perhaps if he fell short of killing Zedaph, he could at least get him out of action long enough to attempt to ban him. He knew it was his only realistic hope against the man, but for a reason he couldn’t place the thought made him feel… bad. Not because it was subjecting him to the agony he had been forced to endure, Zedaph wouldn’t suffer that way. He’d simply be unable to return to the world, so he had no reason to feel bad about it in that regard. No, it was something else. Some half-remembered bond of friendship EX couldn’t hope to place. He had never been truly ‘friends’ with a Hermit, having only come close with WormMan, who was not a hermit, and, really, had very little in common with Zedaph. Perhaps the shared accent was enough to make him sympathetic. 

He shook the thought from his mind as he realised that he was above Zed now, and he produced wings, carrying the two of them into the air with two painful beats, before dropping, forcing Zed onto the spiked top of the Diamond throne with as much force as he could muster, ripping his clawed appendages from Zed’s form and leaping backwards, out of the town hall, hovering in the air as he constrained his form to something human once again, ripping the pieces of bent and broken armour from his torn undersuit and throwing them to the ground. He didn’t need that mess getting in his way. Ears pricked for any indication that Zed was drawing closer, he pulled out his communicator and began hastily typing out a command, the familiar keypad easy to navigate without his sight. He needed speed, and invisibility would be good too, although he wasn’t sure how or if Zedaph could see in this state. 

Speaking of Zedaph, everything had gone very quiet. He paused for a moment, tilting his head from side to side, listening for any indication of Zed’s location, but the only sound was that of Xisuma’s pained breathing somewhere below him. He was inclined to just begin typing again, but some buried instinct pricked in his chest, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was in immense and immediate danger. He shifted in the air, reaching with one hand into his creative inventory, fingers brushing the rows upon rows of objects within until they found themselves around the hilt of a cool, metallic-rocky netherite sword, which he pulled into reality and spun in his hand, the weight making him feel ever so slightly better about the disturbing lack of any indication that Zedaph was around, as he begin to continue typing in the command one handedly. It was slower, but the new found feeling of security was worth it.

However, before he could finish typing, A great something erupted from the ground, smacking into him from below, grabbing at his legs, knocking the communicator clean out of his hands. Exil X yelled in shock as it began to drag him down, and his form collapsed into a mess of flesh once again as he fought the pull of The Void, his whole body deteriorating into a mass of spikes and claws, sharp edges being driven into Zedaph at every opportunity, utterly ineffective at stopping their slow advance downwards, panic and fear rising in a crescendo in Evil X’s chest. He didn’t want to go back. He couldn’t! His flesh pulled into wings, desperately and ineffectively beating against Zedaph’s pull as he was dragged into the ground, a high keening noise filling the air with crystalline horror, pouring from what constituted EX’s mouth.

Prone on the ground below them, Xisuma curled in on himself, eyes clamped shut to avoid seeing Zedaph, hands braced on the sides of his helmet to try and block out Evil Xisuma’s screams as they filled the air and magnified the guilt that was threatening to destroy him. He trembled, unable to feel his fingers as they numbed under the Wither effect’s influence to the point that he wasn’t sure if they were even attached to his body any more. 

Despite his best efforts, the sounds of screaming, tearing flesh, crunching bone still invaded his mind, making him feel sick to the core and so very, very helpless. He wanted to help his other, some protective instinct dredging itself up within him. If he wasn’t so weak, he would’ve cried from pain and frustration- but as it was he only shook with dry sobs as the screaming was cut off abruptly, and the world went silent.

He waited for a few seconds, eyes still tight shut, waiting for the racket to start up again. But when it didn’t he opened his eyes cautiously, and recoiled at the sight before him. The whole area was splattered in void and gore, some having even dulled the shine of the diamonds that hung in the trees that lined the street. He drew in a shuddering, pained breath, almost able to taste the blood through his air filter, lowering his hands from his head and, with great effort, managing to prop himself up on his rapidly dying limbs. His eyes found their way to the diamond throne, it’s spiked top positively dripping as blood and void mixed in equal measures upon it. He fumbled his body, little more than a mess of unresponsive limbs, managing to turn around to see the spot where Evil Xisuma and Zed had last been. The ground was cracked, the concrete having been pulled down into a shallow crater which was slick with blood. The stench was palpable, but X’s eyes fell on something on the ground a few meters away. Evil X’s communicator. The little chrome box was bloodstained, and it’s screen cracked, but beyond that it didn’t seem to be in any unusable state. Those things were built to last.

X began to drag himself towards it, progress slow, his limbs not responding right. From below his elbows and knees, he couldn’t feel anything at all. But he knew he couldn’t let that stop him. With that communicator, he could restore admin privileges, set the time to where it should be, cure himself, and ban EX again. His heart ached at the thought. No. No he wouldn’t ban EX again. There had to be a better solution.

Finally, he reached the communicator, splaying a clumsy arm out to drag it towards him. He wasn’t sure how he was going to type, but he had to persevere, raising his arm the best he could and jamming his fingers onto the keyboard until they managed to produce the letter he wanted. It took a long time, constantly messing up, typing the wrong letter, and then a few further minutes of checking and double checking his syntax, but X was finally able to enter the command, jamming his fingers into the enter key with repressed triumph.

_[Removed wither effect from Xisuma]_

The feeling in his limbs rushed back in the form of excruciating, burning, liquid pain running through his veins. He could feel them filling back up, reinflating lazily and wholly unpleasantly, and he hissed his pain through gritted teeth, wiggling his fingers the best he could to chase the pins and needles from their tips. But what was worse was where the pain didn’t run, and where warm blood pooled loose in his glove, the lack of sensation in the finger that he knew should be there striking gentle horror into his heart, and he pulled off his gloves to see a few blackened fingers falling loose onto the ground.

He baulked, and retched- grateful that nothing came out, fumbling through his inventory for something to eat. He could feel the same numbness in his boots, but he didn’t think he could bare to empty them. Not yet. He pulled out a few golden carrots and ate them hastily, watching the flow of blood stem from his severed digits, the sting of his many injuries fade into background aches. He managed to stand on trembling legs. Picking the communicator up and briefly checking chat. It was filled with confused messages from the hermits, offers of help, pleas for their location. He heaved a sigh of relief that no one had come. More people in harm’s way was the last thing he needed.

_EvilXisuma: Everythinggs ok now.im dealing with it.  
Grian: ????  
EvilXisuma: Oh  
EvilXisuma: This is X I’m borreroing his communicator  
EvilXisuma: borrowing*  
[EvilXisuma fell out of the world]  
EvilXisuma: oh.  
FalseSymmetry: What’s going on?  
EvilXisuma: il; explafin whenn ive cleaned it all up  
EvilXisuma: stay in yoer basess#  
Grian: ok??_

X just had to hope they’d believe him as he began entering in the commands needed to undo EX’s meddling. Unease hung heavy in his stomach at the sight of EX’s death message, and again he was wracked with guilt over his unfair treatment of the man. He hoped that he could do something to make it up to him, or at least get him out of the server in a way that wouldn’t be so damaging. 

As he typed, slowly returning things to how they had been, he made his way towards the town hall, checking on his unconscious friends as he went. He was deliberately holding off on making it day so he could ensure their safety first. Ren and Mumbo were already in good spots, in direct line of where the light of the newly risen sun would fall. He rejoiced silently at not needing to pick either of them up. He was strong, but right now his arms felt like jelly, and his legs quaked under his own weight, let alone that of either Mumbo or Ren. He carefully stepped around them and made his way to Cleo and Joe. He wasn’t really sure what kind of state they’d be in in the morning. Cleo would probably be ok, but Joe? He pulled out a few blocks and began to carefully confine Joe, just in case. He paused, once Joe was fully encased, before carefully grabbing Cleo by the back of the shirt and dragging her into the shade, her emaciated and rotted form barely light enough for him to move. He glanced up at the town hall, now only needing to set the time to day and deactivate EX’s command block. He allowed himself to relax ever so slightly as he trudged up the steps, reaching over and simply pressing the button on the command block again, removing it’s influence over spawn, before breaking it and burning it with a single click of his flint and steel. 

He sat down heavily and sighed, putting EX’s communicator down beside him and pulling up an admin panel. He spawned in a new communicator for himself, the thing appearing in his inventory, before, finally, setting the time to morning.

_[Set time to 06:00]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, things have calmed down at least. Next chapter (should) be the last chapter btw! can't believe it, honestly.   
> But let's stay in the here and now.. that was kinda fucked up really. A lot of the more gruesome/horror elements are based off of things that I would abhor happening to me and worry about for no reason, and taking off a glove and having my fingers fall out is one of them... eugh.  
> X will be fine though.. They'll come back with the next respawn.  
> Probably.  
> ;3


End file.
